









- 



































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THEORY OF TEACHING, 



WITH A FEW 



PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATIONS 



BY A TEACHER. , 






THE MORE ONE LOVES THE ART, AND INDEED THE BETTER ONE STUDIES IT, THE LESS 
ONE IS SATISFIED. THIS MADE TITIAN WRITE UNDER HIS PICTURES fdtiebat, SIG- 
NIFYING THAT THEY WERE ONLY IN PROGRESS. — NoHkcOte's Conversations. 



BOSTON : 

P. PEABODY 
1841. 



LBI037 
.19 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by E. P. Pea- 
body, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



S N.DICKINSON, Printer, 
52 Washington Street. 



b*f 



/or 



These Letters are part of a real correspondence, begun in order to 
systematize the writer's own theory and practice. The position of gov- 
erness was assumed as the most favorable one for carrying out com- 
pletely her ideas on education. 

In the humbler walks of literature, are many books which supply to 
those who live in retirement the place of society, by freeing them from 
prejudice and inducing thought. Such books must be considered as the 
conversation of those who have attended to a particular subject, and 
therefore valuable to others who are ignorant of it. It is as one of this 
class that the present correspondence claims for itself a reading. 



LETTERS. 



i. 

My Dear Mary : 

Your letter of warning and expostulation came too late : 
the fatal step is already taken ; I am a ministering servant 
in the house of another ; expending my energies for 
children not my own ; exposed to those clashings and 
misunderstandings which you describe as more fearful than 
the shock of war. Yes, I am a governess, and, in spite of 
your predictions, hope to benefit others without losing my 
own tranquillity. Do not urge upon me that it is an un- 
natural relation. No position is an unnatural one, in which 
we can be of use. 

' Look not so earnestly on me as if my fate were a sad one — 
Joyfully the sister her brother serves, serves also her elders ; 
Still is her life an everlasting going and coming, 
A bearing and waiting, preparing and toiling for others. 
Well is it for her when by usage no way is too weary, 
When never the needle seems too fine nor the office too petty ; 
And the long hours of the night are as those of the day-time — 
Twenty men put together could not endure all her troubles, 
Neither shall they — yet nevertheless they shall see and be thankful. 

All we wish is to feel that we have not lived in vain. To 
serve is always our destiny and our delight : the mode of 
serving we can sometimes choose. 

Would you confine us to the few original relations of 

children, friends, wives, and the few occupations of tending 

flocks and flowers ? No, my dear Mary, civilized life, with 

its many wants and many needy ones, brines new stations, 

2* 



and this of governess seems to me to be one of the most 
simple and useful. You will tell me, that it is more diffi- 
cult to deal with persons than things ; that in this more com- 
plicated world there is need of nicer traits of character ; 
that dignity, delicacy, reserve, must be added to the vir- 
tues which are sufficient for a ruder life ; that more prudence 
and wisdom are needed ; for the great world is obliged to 
punish many errors which the primitive world forgave. 

Do not urge against me my love of independence, my 
decided opinions, my ardor of character; these shall not 
be monsters erecting their ears, and bristling at every 
shadow ; I will smooth their shaggy manes, and make them 
strong steeds to bear me over every obstacle. 

Seriously, my dear Mary, I cannot conceive that any thing 
we have in us need ever be a stumbling-block. The gift 
never comes without the power to direct it. It is our 
wants, our short-comings which ruin us. You will find that 
I shall walk on this new and slippery path with some frights 
and stumblings, but with success, for I have a guide who 
never fails ; it is Truth. If I am faithful to my ideas, 
loving to the children, open as noonday with their parents, 
what have I to fear ? Are we not everywhere exposed to 
the faults of others ? And is not this a sufficient defence? 
But how can I speak of woman as needing a defence ? — 
has she not in her sympathy that which makes the danger of 
personal clashing disappear ? When the old are rigid with 
me, I will remember by what cruel teachings such opinions 
have been forced upon them ; when the young disappoint 
and thwart me, I will remember they know not what they 
strive against. When I see any thing that I cannot ap- 
prove, I will suspend my judgment until I see the heart and 
circumstances of the sinner. 

As we grow older our sympathy flows less readily, but 
it embraces a wider field : if this and justice and sincerity 
will not bear me safely on, they may fold their celestial 
wings, and I will henceforth trudge along the highways of 
prudence and expediency. 

It will be strange indeed, if my love of independence 
harm me, for it is that which has suggested this course. I 
am aware that in seeking my own support, I offer spirit- 



ual for temporal things, and it is a barter in which the del- 
icacy and the loss are oftenest on the wrong side. But I 
think we owe it to the spiritual services to assert their real 
worth ; and having fixed this in my own opinion, I shall 
feel no delicacy in receiving an equivalent. At any rate, 
the unpleasantness would exist in any other mode of earn- 
ing a living ; and here, the love of all around me will soften 
it as much as possible. 

I need not tell you how wise, tender, and considerate, is 
Mr. O., nor how sweet and loving is his gentle wife ; nat- 
urally charming, their love for each other has brought their 
characters almost to perfection. You know them by my 
frequent description ; but I must tell you, that to the love 
I have always felt for his character, is added the strongest 
gratitude for his kindness to me. How delightful it is to 
receive kindness from those whose qualities we admired be- 
fore ! It sanctions our affection, and gives us a right to turn 
upon our benefactor the unsatisfied love which followed 
distant and strange virtues. This friend is rich in blessings ', 
he wants nothing ; I can give him nothing : but by devot- 
ing myself to his children I can show him that his kindness 
was bestowed on no insensible heart ; and if love and grat- 
itude can enlighten, I shall be the wisest teacher on earth. 

How much do I now regret that I never took a more 
active and particular interest in your school ! 

The education both of old and young has always been 
my hobby ; indeed, life always appears to me as an educa- 
tion, and is more interesting in this view of it, than in any 
other. I have thought and talked enough about education, 
quite to weary friends who took no particular interest in it, 
and I had a general idea of what was most desirable to be 
obtained, and how to obtain it. I have been with children 
sufficiently to know also how much they can do, and what 
treatment they require. But this knowledge has only been 
elaborated in my private workshop, for my own particular 
use, to suit my own taste and position ; it should be cor- 
rected by experience and a wider knowledge, before it can 
be applied to other cases. 

I might have enriched myself with all your stores of wis- 
dom and experience, had I anticipated a necessity for them. 



8 

How many such past opportunities do I now recal with re- 
gret ! When will philosophers and world-reformers, strik- 
ing off the trammels of frivolity and false opinion, leave 
the mind free to embrace all which is truly noble and im- 
portant ; to live simply, and draw to itself all knowledge ; 
not feel bound by necessity to seek only that which an im- 
mediate purpose requires ? 

I have done all I could to make room in my vessel — all 
undue love of dress, all indecisions, scruples, speculations 
about others, went overboard long ago. But the common 
claims of life, necessary Cares, and the " Virtue next to 
Godliness," occupy so much room, that the better part of 
my cargo is quite straitened, and sometimes pushed out 
of sight. From all these evils and burdens, which I have 
thrown off one by one, I wish to keep my pupils free. I 
will do all I can to make innocence still the basis of their 
virtue ; let me do my utmost, their own weakness and 
blindness will prepare enough of trials and discipline. 
You will say it is the delusive hope which inspires each 
generation. Be it so ; but we fall short of our duty, if the 
consideration that we cannot cure all evil prevents our striv- 
ing against that which is nearest. 

They shall know evil, if you will allow me the Irishism, 
only as a thing unknown. I will keep far from them all 
evil in morals, all great mistakes in conduct, all wanderings 
and excesses of the feelings. This is all I shall do ; I will 
not control, and tutor, and dictate, but keep away all that 
is harmful, supply ample nutriment to heart, intellect, 
and the organs, and let them unfold in their own lovely 
proportions. I do not expect, by doing so much for them, 
to obviate the necessity of self-education. I mean only to 
carry them as far as another can ; and from this vantage- 
ground must begin self-education ; which alone secures 
peace and strength. 

Nor is self-education to be deferred until my work is done. 
One of the first demands I shall make upon them, will be 
to build themselves. The obligation they are under to 
their Creator to do this, will be the corner-stone of their 
characters : they can feel this as soon as they know that 
He has made and loves them ; they will feel it more strong- 



\y as they learn the wonder.? of His universe, of the world 
within, and of His moral government. They will be ashamed 
to fall short in so noble a universe ; they will love to chime in 
with others ; they will be grateful for their will left free, "not 
fast in fate;" and having once known the delight of acting 
in accordance with His laws, will value it beyond all others. 

I shall aid them in educating themselves morally, by mak- 
ing them feel their faults and deficiencies ; by keeping alive 
their sensibility, and directing it to these faults, making 
it the living and renewing power, and spring of action. 
But I shall make them feel that I can only point the way ; 
that the decision rests with themselves ; that by their own 
effort they stand or fall. 

I shall throw them back on themselves, not only in their 
moral but in their intellectual education ; while at the same 
time I shall aid them most abundantly, making always this 
provision, that I will do a vast deal for them, but they must 
do more for themselves. 

But here you will say, I am giving you a proof of my 
ignorance of the world, by disposing thus summarily of 
another person's children ; you think I shall find myself 
held down, as Gulliver was, by the myriad Lilliputian bands 
of conventionalism and petty difference. Well, we shall 
see. Mrs. O. is the most modest and yielding of women. 
Her aims are high, her taste refined, her confidence in me 
firm ; she will cooperate and sympathize in all my plans, 
and I shall be well pleased to take counsel of her superior 
age and matronly experience. 

The two elder girls, Mary and Sophia, are ten and twelve 
years of age ; then there are two boys, now absent, and two 
little things of three and four, who fall also under my care. 

Oh, how many questions I should ask, if I had you at 
my elbow; questions which I now revolve and discuss with 
my inexperienced self, wandering with careless eyes along 
this lovely river. You will think 1 am indeed absorbed, 
when I have written you four pages from the banks of the 
Connecticut, without one description or ecstacy. Yes, my 
dear Mary, places have lost their hold on me ; persons 
carry me off blindfold ; persons, and how to benefit them, 
form my present world. 



10 



I am sure of a sympathetic listener in you, my dear 
Mary, so I will not wait for an answer to my last letter. 
This charming June weather has been devoted to making 
acquaintance with our new home ; and now that we have 
ranged every hill and valley within ken, we are turning our 
eyes on each other, with somewhat of the interest ship- 
mates feel at the beginning of a long voyage. 

I have conversed much with Mrs. O., and she has de- 
tailed to me all her desires and views. Her health is, you 
know, delicate, and the entire charge of her children's ed- 
ucation would be too heavy for her, and would take her off 
too much from other duties. She washed, therefore, to re- 
ceive some person into her family, who would be as far as 
possible another self. She is not so unreasonable as to 
expect from this stranger the zeal and forbearance of a 
mother ; but she expects certain qualities which fit her pe- 
culiarly to preside over some parts of the education. She 
cannot resign the sacred duty of forming their characters, 
of presiding over their sentiments and lesser morals ; but 
she is willing to confide their intellectual education to other 
hands. Their religious and human feelings, their virtues, 
their lovely qualities, can be brought out only in social and 
home life, by the influences around them. Being unable 
to bear the whole burden, she has set apart their intellec- 
tual culture for my share ; and though I shall seize, like 
herself, every opportunity to cultivate their feelings and 
their characters, my object is to be the unfolding of their 
intellects in a natural manner, the putting them in full pos- 
session of their intellectual strength, whatever it may be, 
and the supplying to them in each stage the nutriment 
most suitable and abundant. 

Mrs. O. was surprised to find that I by no means gave 
supremacy to the intellect in my valuation of what was 
desirable in women. She began even to be alarmed lest I 
should not treat this secondary power with sufficient 
respect ; but I assured her, not Caesar less, but Rome 
more ; if she would only wait and see my demands and 
estimates of what might be accomplished, she would see 



11 

that I served the intellect more devotedly, viewing it 
as the enlightener and guard of the feelings, than those do 
who give it the first place. 

I am delighted to find our views so nearly alike. We 
do not absolutely differ on any subject, though there are 
some which appear to me extremely important, which she 
had never attended to ; and some on which she laid great 
stress, I had thought rather to interfere with a free devel- 
opement. For instance, she values very highly the influ- 
ence of the slighter social duties performed from a high 
motive ; because they often keep the heart open, are a dis- 
cipline to selfishness, and preserve from morbidness and 
other evils. She values also polished manners, taste in 
dress, and sundry little conventionalisms, which I had 
always regarded as drawbacks to progress. She con- 
siders every conventionalism as arising from the general 
experience ; freedom was found dangerous, and society, 
aware of its weakness or its liability to overlook, erected 
this conventionalism as a barricado and memento to itself. 
I agree with her as to the origin of these conventionalisms, 
and have no doubt that in each society are some persons to 
whom each barricado is necessary. But cannot such re- 
tire, each to the guarded ground he requires ? Must 
the whole race be fenced in, and each one wear the fet- 
ters of all ? Cannot each voluntarily observe those de- 
manded by his situation and character ? 

She thinks it so necessary to the growth of generosity 
and an amiable disposition, that the social nature should be 
constantly exercised, that she is not willing her children 
should be educated alone. She said with great feeling, 
that the more we should do for them, the greater would be 
their peril ; that the human heart could not receive too 
much devotion without closing and turning to stone ; that 
even a mother's love may be fatal, when not counteracted 
by other influences., She meant, therefore, to select ten or 
twelve little girls from a neighboring village, and let them 
be schoolmates and friends of her children. So you see, 
my dear Mary, I have need of your instructions at once ; for 
I imagine, in teaching, the difficulties increase in proportion 
to the scholars. 



12 



Mrs. O. has another reason for cultivating the social 
nature. She regards it as a haven of rest for woman. 
She has very sad feelings about the destiny of women 
— looks upon her daughters as destined to suffer — and 
whenever she sees any thing they can lay hold of to 
shelter themselves from the storms of life, wishes to cherish 
it and make the most of it. I approve of cultivating the 
social affections for a different reason. The germ of them 
exists, and we have no right to blight it. Natural religion 
tells us that each created being has its special claim upon 
us. The divine law says, love your brother — -not love 
qualities merely, but your brother. The only difficulty is 
in fixing the limits of this claim ; in deciding to how much 
of our time others not very near to us have a right. This 
question each mother must decide according to her circum- 
stances and valuation for her children, and each child, as 
she begins to reflect, can ratify or reverse that decision. 
Mrs. O. has decided for her children. She knows that 
they would learn more, had they all my care ; but she pre- 
fers that their studies should be shared with girls of their 
own age, and that part of the school-hours should be passed 
in learning to love their fellow-creatures. 

But I have not yet made you acquainted with my little 
pupils. They are too lovely to be slighted : yet I shall say 
very little about them, for I have no penetration into charac- 
ter; I believe I am too credulous; I meditate, and analyze, 
and comprehend all that people tell me about themselves, 
but I never get at that part of them which is not manifested 
in decided action or revealed to me. Hence I never feel 
that I know the whole of any character. But perhaps with 
these simple natures I may get along better. I am very 
sympathetic, and never forget anything I have observed in 
others ; so as far as experience goes I shall understand 
them : but I dread meeting an incomprehensible one — for 
without understanding we cannot sympathize ; without sym- 
pathy we can exert no living influence, but must take refuge 
in the dead weight of authority. I would have our inter- 
course all electric ; one shall understand before the other 
speaks. A glance, a change of expression, shall be enough. 



13 

We will love each other so much, we shall need no speech. 
How can we help loving each other ! I shall have ever 
before me their fresh young spirits, drinking in eternal 
truths. I shall see the color mounting to their brows, the 
eyes sparkling as a thought or emotion kindles them for the 
first time. First time ! Oh mysterious charm ! charm, 
belonging perhaps to our finite nature, yet so sweet that 
we shall resign it with regret. I am almost reconciled to 
the fleetingness of earth's blessings, because connected 
with it, is this delight of feeling, of knowing for the first 
time. With what sad and mysterious interest does one 
who has suffered much, watch the delight of youth in the 
intense life which each new object excites ! They think 
that each fountain will be always in like degree a well- 
spring of delight. We know that never again are its 
waters sweet and life-giving as that once, but that the in- 
finite seeker must lose his sense of disappointment by pres- 
sing on to other fountains, and then again in the distance 
memory may invest this with a new charm. Who can 
ever forget the delight with which his weak childish fancy 
revelled in descriptions of people and countries all unknown : 
or with what pain it rose to conceive of some law of the 
universe, and with what sober delight it held it fast when 
once comprehended ! Let us recal the moments most deep- 
ly impressed upon us, which have ruled our whole life ; the 
moment when we suddenly compassionated, loved, or 
admired ; when through our love, or intellect, as in a 
momentary flash, we were aware of feelings, duties, ex- 
istences all around us, unsuspected before; when we were 
lifted above our past world, and saw new regions before us, 
and a heavenly light to guide us therein. Then slight 
not the charm of theirs/ time — it has a deeper meaning ■— « 
it is proof, almost certain, that the swelling soul bursts he* 
old limits, and by this token celebrates her triumph. 

This pleasure, which I could in each case experience but 
once, I shall see and sympathize with again and again. 
And how I shall love to introduce them to each temple 
through the noblest vestibule ! I shall make time, place, 
and mood, fitting ; I shall keep off all trifling interruptions 
and associations, and introduce them to the wonders of cre- 
2 



14 

ation with a fit solemnity. How ludicrous and how tire- 
some have I known the most important subjects and the 
finest authors to be to girls, merely because they had stud- 
ied them in circumstances unworthy of them — defaced by 
absurd illustrations or their own wretched blunders. I will 
try to have all in keeping; if I am about to set forth the 
wondrous courses of the heavenly orbs, I will inspire a feel- 
ing of their vastness, of their unerring harmony, of the 
mighty wisdom which created and animates them. 1 shall 
myself be penetrated with my subject, and I shall not ap- 
proach it as a mere lesson to be learned. 

But I am running away from my little pupils. I will 
tell you all I have yet discovered about them, that you may 
shape your advice accordingly. Emily, the eldest, has an 
expression of great sensibility, and a fine and delicate in- 
tellect, imagination, and a most sympathetic and compas- 
sionate disposition. She has great vivacity, and I suspect 
a hastiness of character, which often leads her into error. 
She has a charm of manner very attractive to her compan- 
ions, and a consciousness of it, which has slightly injured 
her simplicity. 

Sophia has a very different manner and expression. So- 
ber, dignified, complete, she seems to stand alone, and 
challenge neither admiration nor affection. Her brow and 
head would attract the phrenologist rather than the lover 
of beauty. Her complexion of sober brown disdains to 
borrow from dress or circumstance ; no vivid beams dart 
from her eyes, no smiles or woman's witcheries dwell on her 
lips. She has not the sensibility of Emily, but perhaps 
quite as quick and nice perceptions, only, from dignity 
of character, not expressed. It is a very rich face, and the 
strongest feelings are there; but I do not love it at first 
sight, like the other. 

The little girls, Cary and Lucy, are the pets of the fam- 
ily, and young even for their years. Cary seems a nota- 
ble, brisk little person, one who will choose something above 
mediocrity in all she undertakes. Lucy seems tender, con- 
fiding, of more changeable spirits, and of a nature some- 
times indolent and feeble, sometimes bursting forth in mighty 
undertakings. I infer this, because she wishes to do all 



15 

that Cary does; and as Cary is a remarkably smart, active 
little body, who keeps an eye on every thing, and takes her 
share whether in business or pleasure, little Lucy is some- 
times left in the rear. She has daily proofs that she can- 
not do so much as her elder sister, but they seem all to be 
lost on her. A burst of tears follows each trial, but she 
does not learn from it to limit her undertakings : the next 
morning brings the same round of vehement desires, short- 
lived attempts, and bitter disappointments. It is shocking 
to see so many tears lavished on causes so unworthy ; the 
child's sensibility will be wholly worn out, and a passionate 
violence take its place. I kiss away her tears, and tell her 
they are far too precious to be shed because her basket is 
not full of weeds so soon as Gary's, because her lilac chain 
will not keep its fragile round, because her hoop does not 
obey her feeble hand. I ask her how she will bear the 
certain troubles of life, such as losing her pretty chickens, 
sickness or accident, seeing her sisters and others suffer, 
being parted from her friends, if she sheds tears on such 
trifling occasions. Once I took the opportunity of her 
seeing a little ragged child, whose countenance bespoke its 
sufferings, even to the youngest eye, to speak of the child's 
condition and sufferings, of her ignorance, and the terrible 
fear that she might have no one to teach her to be good ; 
and when she was very much touched, I said, " Let your 
tears flow for this, Lucy; this is a deeper grief than a 
fallen hoop or a task unperformed. 1 ' I said no more. 1 
saw she felt the difference between the tears of pure com- 
passion and those mixed with vexation and shed for trifles. 
But her conduct was injuring her character in another way. 
To fall short once, ever so little, weakens the character, 
just as much as to strive and accomplish, in an instance 
ever so small, strengthens it. It is what no one must allow 
in herself who aims at being or doing much ; for the next 
time more effort is required to reach the mark, and there 
is less probability of reaching it ; another failure ensues, 
we become contented with half doing; we bring our aims 
down to what we can do easily, instead "of stretching our 
capacities to the utmost; progress is at an end. Lucy is too 
young yet to perceive fully the evils of this ; I show them to 



16 

her whenever I think she can perceive them ; but for the 
most part I shall engage her in other pursuits, and by turn- 
ing her sensibility to natural and safe objects, free it from 
this dangerous combination with pride and passion. 

The feelings of childhood are almost our sole recollec- 
tions of it. How sad it would be if all the feelings Lucy 
could recal, were those of passionate grief and disappoint- 
ment. I fancy I must substitute habits with her in the 
place of old faults, without telling her the reason. I should 
fear exciting her if I touched upon the subject. 1 would 
rather let the changes occur as something springing from 
my arrangements, not made with special reference to her. 

With Cary 1 shall pursue a different course. I shall 
explain every thing to her — tell her why such a course is 
best for her — make her a partner of my counsels, and hav- 
ing convinced her understanding, the change will soon fol- 
low. She surpasses Lucy so much in all common affairs, that 
I am anxious to find something in which Lucy excels her. 
I dread this constant superiority ; none but the noblest souls 
can bear it. It is often felt by those who surpass in quantity 
rather than quality ; because quantity is immediately per- 
ceived, but w T hen we are surpassed in quality we have no 
conception of what is beyond us. Persons of energy and 
understanding are most liable to this fault ; they know not 
the upper regions, and getting along remarkably well on 
this lower earth, they get a high sense of their own pow- 
ers, and of course do not know themselves. I have intro- 
duced you to my pupils at home, dear Mary ; in my next I 
shall give an account of the school. Be not sparing of 
your counsels, and do not think whether they hit the pres- 
ent mark or not. Of experience there can never be too 
much, and I am not so silly as to reject all knowledge not 
immediately required. 



III. 
My Dear Mary : 

I have been a month in my school-room, and feel as if I 
had already the experience of years. I should have writ- 
ten to you at the end of the first week, but I knew you 



17 

would laugh at hearing me use the words i: I always " and 
"1 have" so freely. Now that I have presided there so 
long, I think I have some right to bring forward my modes 
and my experience — so here you have them, as you de- 
sire, from the beginning. 

In the first place, let me tell you how favored I am in 
the room which Mr. O. has set apart for my use. It is the 
western wing of the house, large, airy, with windows open- 
ing on a lawm. No living creatures are in sight, no sounds, 
nor variety of objects, distract the attention. Wandering 
eyes behold only the dewy grass and the deep shade of the 
trees upon the lawn. Around us is the repose of nature, 
suggesting and inducing that repose of character, which I 
have often told you is to me the seal and sign of its highest 
perfection. 

As we are far from the city and all public collections, 
Mr. O. has selected from his library such maps, casts, por- 
traits and books as will aid me in imparting information : 
and every question which comes up is settled on the spot 
by reference to these, and by following it up until we are 
satisfied. It is scarcely necessary to say to you, that with 
the rod, I have discarded the ancient pretension to infalli- 
bility. I let my scholars see me as lam — a student in 
advance of them, more zealous and devoted, and knowing 
better where to seek what I need ; but still a learner, aware 
of my own deficiencies, and not ashamed to acknowledge 
them. I must not omit the black-board which graces one 
side of my room, most pliant conveyer of all sorts of in- 
struction to all sorts of minds, and even to the senses when 
the mind seems locked up. Directly in front of it I sit, 
and opposite me, each in her separate desk, my dozen pu- 
pils. 1 know you disapprove of these separate desks, as 
leading to selfishness and quarrels ; but as my pupils are 
chiefly over ten, there is less danger of this, and some use- 
ful lessons may be learned, in keeping them neat and or- 
derly, and arranging the books conveniently. There is a 
little germ of housewifery in every girl, which is pleased by- 
convenient arrangements, and displeased by slatternly, in- 
competent ones ; and this, school education should foster 
as far as possible. There is another more important feel- 
2* 



18 

ing in their little bosoms : even the youngest child loves to 
have a sanctum — a place to which she can retire and keep 
her treasures, and which no one can invade. Unless she has a 
place to keep her treasures, she feels that she has no proper- 
ty ; if she does not by herself owning something get an idea 
of property, she will never understand or respect the rights 
of others. As a regard for the rights of others is so large a 
part of morality, ought we to neglect enforcing their rights 
in actual things ? By enforcing them do we not make the 
child alive to their claims on our time, our services, our 
hearts? Believe me, we cannot even from the cradle en- 
force too rigidly the meum and the tuum. I have always been 
in the habit of insisting on them equally ; and after a child 
perceives fully that a thing is his own, I say, " It is yours 
to keep or to give away — you have full power over it : 
how happy you are in owning something, and thus having 
a right to give ! now you may enjoy the pleasure of true 
generosity." I have a contempt for that indiscriminate, 
unreflecting ease of disposition, which gives away all it 
lays its hands upon, whether its own or another's. The 
true and high, considerate, generosity exists only in persons 
who have a nice sense of rights, property, and feelings, 
their own as w T ell as others ; and a service from such, calls 
forth far deeper gratitude, than the same rendered by a 
thoughtless, lavish person. 

There is one trait in my children which is very pleasing, 
and I cannot bear to check it, but I am afraid it will absorb 
too much of my time if allowed. I have told you that I 
cannot help knowing precisely what each one is doing and 
feeling ; my eyes meet theirs constantly, and they are 
very much pleased with this sympathy, and express it in 
words. Each moment one or another looks up with full 
confidence of sympathy, and says : " I 've been studying 
very hard, Miss ; I guess I shall recite well," or com- 
municates some other little item of the sort. It is right 
that these little facts should interest them, for of them is the 
tissue of their education woven ; and I would not be ig- 
norant of them, for it is only by these little facts that I can 
be sure to know the whole, and only by influencing them 
in these that I can influence them in the end. If I 



19 

enter into every little occurrence, I must exert in each a 
certain influence, and in a year, the amount and tenor of 
this influence will be very perceptible. Children can be 
taught only by line upon line, precept upon precept. 
1 am so impressed with the vastness of the claim children 
have on us, that I sometimes feel as if the great object of 
each generation was to educate the next. Certainly only 
self-education has a higher claim. I love the confidingness 
and affection they show in communicating these trifles, and 
I cannot bear to check it. It is impossible to give them a 
hint ; even the oldest girl in school often speaks aloud her 
satisfaction when she has finished a lesson, and expects a 
sympathetic smile. 

I take so much interest in the workings of every human 
mind, that I always enter into them, and I have so open a 
nature that my feelings are immediately seen ; and when 
we first came together these relations were naturally estab- 
lished between us. But now they have multiplied so fast, 
that unless they subside into a quiet trust and mutual un- 
derstanding, I shall be quite overwhelmed. Do you remem- 
ber I used to say that near-sighted and not very observing 
people had better manners, than those who were aware of 
another at the length of a street, or who could not enter a 
room without knowing every person in it. After being in a 
company ten minutes, 1 always felt as if I had conversed 
with every one there, and ofien forgot to recognize them 
when they came nearer. There is nearly the same diffi- 
culty in my mental perceptions. I know so instantly all 
that a girl feels, needs, or experiences, that I show it in my 
manner, regard it when the girl does not expect it, and 
when, perhaps, if unnoticed, it would clear itself or subside 
more kindly. I think these difficulties will pass away with 
the novelty of my situation, and when we all are earnestly 
engaged in study. Perhaps you can shorten their duration. 
Some one has said that the first pupils of a young teacher 
were as the blood of the martyrs, the seed of the future 
church. I trust I have had too much experience to bring 
on mine so untimely a fate ; but I wish to cause them as 
little inconvenience as possible. I regret this partly from 
the daily inconvenience, and more because I fear they will 



20 

lean too much on me. Women depend enough on sympa- 
thy, naturally ; far be it from me to encourage the feeling. 

I had proposed to myself to throw the children on them- 
selves in all other ways, and to enter fully into their feel- 
ings ; and it is in this manner that I have brought on this 
habit — by showing them that I was interested in what they 
did and felt. I have always insisted on their making the 
exertion — on their conquering the difficulty, the indolence, 
the pettishness — and I have only sympathized in the suc- 
cess. 

I was particularly afraid of letting them lean too much 
on me — of learning their lessons for them. 1 once heard 
a lady say, that she made one such mistake in the begin- 
ning of her teaching — it was so very easy to learn, and so 
very hard to persuade another to learn : and that she had 
destroyed the strength of her pupil's character. 



IV. 

Having, my dear Mary, made you at home in my 
school-room, let me describe to you what goes on there. 

To each new scholar I give some account of my 
views. 1 tell her I wish the school to be a moral govern- 
ment, not one of authority ; that the better they rule them- 
selves, the less 1 shall be obliged to control them ; that I 
hope they will do what is right and best, if not, it is my 
duty to compel them ; that I hope they know* the value of 
time, and feel responsible for the right use of it ; but if not, 
that I am responsible to their parents, and cannot let them 
waste it : I represent authority as an iron enclosure, brist- 
ling with points, which they will never feel, if they do not 
stray beyond the boundaries of self-government. I have 
no punishments but depriving them of a favorite exercise 
or privilege. I have no rewards but more lessons. I 
allow them to speak to each other about their lessons, 
and to study together, if they do not disturb the recita- 
tions. 



21 

The children see what sincere and eager interest I take 
in study, and they imbibe it. Continually I explain to 
them all they can comprehend, and then say : " But you 
must know a great deal more before you can understand 
the rest: " and when a lesson in spelling is badly recited 
I recal the desire which they had felt to know such and 
such things, and tell them that study is the key which un- 
locks all the secrets of Nature. 

How can any one think ambition or emulation necessary 
to make scholars ? Is not the pleasure of the effort and 
the delight of knowledge enough to bear one over the 
greatest difficulties ? I think it needs but to keep the end 
in sight : give them glimpses of the temple through the 
thick leaves, and they will not complain of the rough way. 
Every desire should be used as a motive to exertion, not 
suffered to expire fruitless. This is always an important 
part of training, and no less so to the intellectual than to 
the moral character. How many persons do we see, whose 
perceptions of what is right are lively, whose desires are 
apparently strong, but do not influence their actions. 
They have a separate and almost dreamy existence ; much 
is felt and suffered in hours of meditation ; and meanwhile 
the actual life keeps on as in another person, almost con- 
tradicting that part of the character. Some persons will 
say : we have no evidence that these sensibilities are so 
lively, these aspirations so strong ; we judge by the deeds, 
nd had they been truly strong, they would have moulded 
and controlled the action. But I think this incongruity arises 
from a neglected education. Care was not taken early to pre- 
serve to the feelings their rightful influence, as motives ; 
the child was allowed, perhaps encouraged, to act thought- 
lessly, from a low view of a subject, without bringing to 
bear upon it the feelings awakened in other moments. 
Now, I think, the moments of intense perception and feel- 
ing are too precious to vanish without securing a lasting 
influence on the character. At these moments I w T ould 
slightly touch on the changes they may work in us; and 
afterward, when the little feet were weary and the hill 
looked steep and unattractive, I would try to bring back 
that first enthusiasm. In this way unity of life is secured ; 



22 

the highest emotions regulate and harmonize with the most 
common labors ; the mind is at peace, and dwells in light. 

My scholars have come to me from various teachers, and 
the modes have been as various as the masters. But I look 
in vain for one, who has been put in possession of her own 
faculties. They really think that education consists in 
going through certain books, and becoming familiar with 
a fnw studies. I suppose this chaotic state arises in part 
from iheir having been changed from school to school, and 
in part from the absence of any steady plan in the parents ; 
and I have frequently thought of what I have heard you 
mention as desirable — the cooperation of teachers to form 
a system for the education of girls. If they would bring 
their experience, and tell us how much time they demand, 
and the parents would bring their desires and expectations, 
and tell us how much time they allow, for the intellectual 
education, we might have it well arranged and symmetri- 
cal, and as complete as the time given would admit. At 
present, all are working in the dark ; the parents have no 
confidence in the master ; the master is not sure of the 
cooperation of the parents. Not only these and the in- 
jured scholars suffer, but all unfortunate persons, who are 
within hearing; for no subject gives rise to such endless 
discussions as one imperfectly understood. If, in their 
blind struggles, both parties tumble into the presence of 
Truth, great is her light, and it prevails over both their 
errors. 

Many words and anxieties have been expended on school 
education, which seems to be the best education for girls 
in our society ; but they have been uttered in various cor- 
ners, by mothers, whose instincts made them wise, — or 
partially and often dogmatically, and as complete systems, 
by teachers. When a teacher perceives the advantage of 
any one mode, as the Pestalozzian, or that of oral instruc- 
tion, he is apt to be carried away by its success, and forget 
the advantages of a different course. Perhaps he has him- 
self been for years subjected to drilling, and received the 
6rst instruction addressed to his understanding as light from 
heaven ; — henceforth drilling, learning by rote, are banish- 
ed from his system, and thoroughness and accuracy too 



23 

often follow. He forgets what he himself may owe to 
them, and hurries forth to free all little slaves, with the 
light which made him free. His system suits some chil- 
dren, and obtains the confidence of their parents ; to others 
it speaks in vain. Meanwhile, in another little flock quite 
an opposite system, calling forth their energies in a different 
manner, works wonders. The parents of the successful 
ones are equally pleased. Parties are naturally formed ; 
there is on both sid s ample evidence of success and fail- 
ure ; the confidence of the parents is lost ; the children 
are perplexed when they pass from one to another; and 
we have scholars admirably developed in some respects, 
but on the whole, crude, incomplete, unpolished. 

I am not so Quixotic as to try to prevent human nature 
from running into extremes, and seizing partial views of 
any subject. But I think we ought not to rest in such 
views, and that a person who lives in society is inexcusa- 
ble if he does not attempt to add his segment to others, 
until together they embrace the whole subject. 

You who meet others interested in the cause, can, per- 
haps, induce them to join in the undertaking. They 
need not fear reducing the living food to " dry formulas 
and dead grammatical cinders : " nor the stripping of ed- 
ucation to the bare branches and unsightly trunk. We 
would merely secure a firm and mighty trunk, clothed in 
the varying foliage which the differing nature of each 
teacher would furnish. 

Far be it from me to rob life or teaching of their variety. 
I would only have the great ideas which should guide both 
fully unfolded and deeply engraved, so that we might safely 
follow the bent of our own individual characters in teaching, 
and draw to us fit pupils by the subtile laws of sympathy. 

Come, my dear Mary, set about it, will you ? I quite 
envy you for being near so many thinking persons, who 
will enter into the subject which occupies you, and impart 
their own experiences. I never regret absence from Bos- 
ton but at these times, when my mind is full of a subject 
demanding not only reflection, but the light and observa- 
tion of many minds. 1 want the stimulus of other minds 
seeking the same truths. I like to have a treasury of ma- 



24 

terials heaped together, from which each draws instinctive- 
ly all which his nature prompts. The power of minds 
thus kindling one another is wonderful ; it has given us eras 
in science, in poetry, in philosophy. 

When alone I still find pleasure in holding fast to 
the practical, and sending my eyes roaming over distant 
regions for analogy and new light. I exercise two powers ; 
enjoy a double life. I feel like a physician, who in 
swift thought ranges over the whole economy of the human 
frame to understand a disease, yet always keeps his hand 
on the pulse of the patient. Much as I reverence 
quickness of insight, I consider matter as the test in all 
which is done under the sun ; and I distrust all conclusions, 
in which intellect, the feelings, and common sense, do not 
concur. And upon this subject we must have much more 
than the assent of these three in one mind ; as so much 
depends upon experience, we want the experiments 
of many persons in all varieties of life. From these and 
their deductions, a general whole will be formed, which 
we can receive with confidence, and afterward adapt to our 
circumstances. If I have not stated this too formidably, 
will you engage in it ? Pour upon me a flood of light from 
my beloved Boston. You know I can never abandon a 
subject until I have, by seeking and by revolving, gone as 
far in it as is then possible for me ; and, indeed, never 
wholly abandon one : only intrust it to my memory as to 
our first mother's bosom, to lie there until new light from 
future events shall call it into activity. Meanwhile, rather 
than sit in darkness, I will light my little candle at the 
flame of my own thoughts. 

I shall leave to those who have more practical knowledge, 
the inquiry into past systems, and without troubling myself 
to pull down any thing, shall consider the intellectual edu- 
cation of woman in general, and of girls in our society par- 
ticularly ; and to do this I shall assume the privilege of our 
countrymen, and go back to the very root and origin of the 
matter. Upon second thoughts, this is too important a 
question to be discussed at the end of a letter. I will rath- 
er finish my sheet by propounding some of the questions 
which have arisen this last month, and which your ac- 



25 

quaintance with both parents and masters may enable you 
to answer. 

Do not you think that the parents' want of confidence 
is communicated to the pupils and chills the master? 
You know in our society cultivated and uncultivated 
women, mingle on an equal footing, a slight covering of 
grace and manner concealing from one another, and 
even from themselves, wherein they differ. The ignorant 
among these are perhaps quite as ambitious for their 
daughters as the well-informed, and having heard a certain 
study or practice recommended, insist on it, to the great 
injury of the pupil and teacher. 

I have so much faith in the maternal feeling, that I have 
no doubt if pains were taken to ascertain the best studies 
for girls at each age, mothers would adopt them. Af- 
ter doing all in their power for a daughter, they are fre- 
quently disappointed ; she leaves school wholly ignorant of 
some important branches, and regrets that no wise friend 
stood by to urge them ; or she feels that her school hours 
have been wasted in accommodating to one change after 
another. 

How are we to inspire parents with this confidence? There 
is in this country no authority, not even experience, to 
create it. We must deserve it. We must survey the 
whole ground, and lay it out with our best wisdom. We 
must gain insight into the subject, and consider the circum- 
stances peculiar to our country ; and we shall not then 
complain of want of confidence. If we are faithful, mothers 
will soon find it out ; there is no want of seeking and 
reflecting and toiling on their part. Their wasted exertion 
is one of the most melancholy features of the present mode 
of education. How often have I seen a mother foregoing all 
social enjoyment, devoting her weary evenings to the gram- 
mar and the Latin lesson, wasting herself and her chil- 
dren in fruitless attempts to accomplish what they have 
never been trained to attain. I have been tempted to 
say, "It is too late, — habits of observation, of examining 
any little phenomenon, of persevering, of proceeding step by 
step — some such natural lessons given ten years since, and 
this would have been an intellectual sport. Begin early — 
3 



26 

this is the great secret of all undertakings. Do not let 
children lead the life of vagabonds until they present 
themselves to the unfortunate master. No matter for 
teaching this or that branch ; but teach them to observe, 
to reflect, to apply, to persevere ; in short, to live earnestly, 
and according to intellectual laws ; and they will be pre- 
pared for all we can set before them." 

The absence of precedent may occasion us some slight 
inconveniences, but it leaves us more free to adapt our ed- 
ucation to the position of our women. This is in some 
respects different from that of women in other countries. 
There is here perhaps more cultivation in proportion to 
property — and inferiority as to accomplishments — domes- 
tic life need not be so encumbered, though knowledge and 
skill in the essentials of housekeeping insure comfort, and 
may be indispensable. We are more companions for our 
husbands, have more liberty, more valuable influence, and 
are more strongly bound to fit ourselves for our respon- 
sible station. Do not smile at my running so glibly over 
the difference between ourselves and our sisters across the 
water. I but tell it as it was told to me. I make no pre- 
tensions to personal knowledge. 

Considering the whole community, fashion receives but 
little honor. A certain degree of cultivation is highly 
valued. We have leisure to read much that is valuable 
in our own tongue, and those who desire it, usually find 
time for foreign authors. By observing a wise moderation 
in dress and company, we may fulfil all our social dutif- J 
secure many hours for books. How desirable it is <*t 
we should be prepared to draw from these the greatest ad- 
vantage ! This preparation is demanded of the master. I 
had almost said, it is his exclusive province ; for most pa- 
rents are too busy to exert even a passive intellectual influ- 
ence upon their children. The few moments they are to- 
gether, scarcely suffice to call forth the common sentiments 
and affections of social life. And for the intellectual de- 
velopement the master has but a few hours, taken from a 
crowded and almost gregarious life — from the dancing 
school, the streets, the thousand nothings, attractive because 
enjoyed in company. 



27 

How is the poor master to carry on this training in the 
few interrupted hours left for him, with children whose 
heads and hearts are running on far different things ? I 
answer, he never can, until parents and children realize the 
importance of his work, and yield him full possession of 
the hours called his. Let him show them that the moral 
nature requires for its perfection, not only purity of heart, 
but clearness of intellect. Let them see that he knows 
how to develope the intellect ; knows in what order and 
what connexion to present its appropriate food ; that he 
will carry the most ordinary as far as their capacity per- 
mits, and will aid the gifted to valuable acquisitions. When 
teachers will unite and ascertain what are the most impor- 
tant studies, about what age they should be commenced, 
and in what order they must be followed, then we may 
hope to see our daughters well educated with half the pres- 
ent expense of time and temper; and the hours spent at 
school will be not merely the happy, careless days of youth, 
but the seed-time of an ample harvest. 



V. 

My Dear Mary : 

When I consider human nature in its capabilities, or in 
these young creatures fresh from the hands of God, and 
dowried with gifts for eternity, my heart swells with enthu- 
siasm. I feel as if it would be very easy to keep them 
from sin, from being sufferers, or the cause of suffering, 
to save their tender souls from the bondage of opinion and 
prejudice, and unfold them in their true proportions. All of 
noble and lofty that have ever lived throng my recollection. 
All the forms of virtue, lofty sentiments, sweet affections, 
press around and offer themselves, the fit birthright of these 
untrammelled souls. I allow their claims, I would embrace 
them all ; but can they be united in one person? 

Our ideal has been enlarging ever since the beginning 
of the world ; each step of our intellectual and moral 



28 

progress has elevated our conceptions of it. Each great 
deed has made our trust in these conceptions, certainty ; 
and inspired teachings have given it an elevation not 
otherwise attainable. Every age casts its skin of faults 
and errors, and moves on rejoicing like a strong man, bear- 
ing old burdens lightly, and eager for new ; where it per- 
ceives a duty, delighted to fulfil it ; where an enlightened 
conscience declares a practice wrong, quick to lay it aside. 
Meanwhile the child comes into the world feeble and 
ignorant as ever; he brings no new powers to the wider 
and more complicated work before him. With the same 
temptations in himself, he stands before a more nice and 
strict tribunal. Yet he smiles as unconsciously, and ap- 
plies himself to life with as good a heart, as if his eyes had 
opened in Nature's simplest nook. And he is right — for 
the same all-wise Parent has ordered his lot ; and if a wider 
and more complicated field is before him, more light, more 
materials surround him, he need bring only the same 
powers and the same effort. Life is as easy to the child 
of to-day as to the firstlings of the world, if those around 
him, who have the light and the materials, are faithful to 
their task. Their responsibility is great — their difficulties 
of choosing, we must allow, greater than when life was 
more simple — but if they share the child's faith, and obey 
entirely every law that they perceive, they will not find 
themselves without a guide. This entire obedience to every 
law must be insisted on, because a being like man, in whom 
two elements are so intimately combined, and influence each 
other, can never disobey with impunity the slightest law of 
either nature. The artisan who has never fed his eyes on 
Nature's kindly green, nor raised them to the eternal stars, 
but strained them through a microscope until they are little 
more than one of its glasses, has neglected an organic law. 
Our sensations, when we have strained an organ by a cer- 
tain use of it, direct us to repair the harm by employing it 
differently. Had the watch-maker snatched a few mo- 
ments from his labor to tend plants, behold the largest 
objects in his reach, or had the evening been given to the 
free air and the distant heaven, his vision, and with it all 
his conceptions, would not have been circumscribed. The 



29 

importance of this obedience to organic laws has been so 
ably set forth, that I should not urge it, had I not daily- 
proofs that they receive very little voluntary obedience. 
All should see their beauty and fitness, and love to act with 
them, and not wait until some evil or pain compels obe- 
dience. If the law be all-pervading and immutable, its 
evil consequences follow, we are harmed, whether we feel 
it or not. If violations of physical laws brought only 
physical penalties, we might generally trust to them their 
own correction, for they make themselves felt. But we 
have said that man's twofold nature makes the one liable 
for the faults of the other, and we should be especially on 
our guard, lest, in disobeying physical laws, we incur spir- 
itual evil or privation. 

Those who complain of the burden of civilized life, and 
look for their freedom to some great principle or reform, 
will often find themselves lightened by obeying physical 
laws : some slight clue, closely followed, brings them to 
unexpected and valuable results. Among these, two laws 
stand forth, more inexorable than the rest to the com- 
plaints of personality, but cherished guides to him who de- 
sires individuality. These are, organization and circum- 
stances. By circumstances I do not mean that superior 
facility of one course over another, which presents itself to 
weak and sluggish minds as an insuperable fate ; but I mean 
the environment in which each man is born, which inev- 
itably colors his existence, but which never interferes with 
his free will or moral worth. I mean that which made the 
great of ancient times different from the hero of to-day-— 
which made Plato and Socrates toil painfully for truths 
which are known to common minds now. It is useless to 
deny the influence of these environments. We should 
rather accept them, as the means of adapting us to our age 
and place, and believe them, though different in all other 
respects, equally adapted to unfold us for eternity. 

The child feels no need of such guides. He makes no 
pause or choice who aims to conquer the world. He 
hopes soon to know all things — he believes he shall become 
all he admires. Blessed ordering of Providence, which 
hides from the young aspirant the plain strewed with the 
3* 



30 

fallen ! let us reverence his faith, though our more expe- 
rienced eyes are sensible of his illusion. Do not think I 
use the word illusion bitterly — it is by illusion that our 
finite nature is drawn on. 

" God gives us love. Something to love 
He lends us ; but when love is grown 
To ripeness, that on which it throve 
Falls off, and love is left alone." 

What are these illusions, if we examine them? Are they 
not the offspring and the expression of faith r Are they 
not spirit asserting its supremacy over matter, and trusting 
its own noble promptings rather than the sad tales and warn- 
ings of experience ? 

We have said that the child's hope is unbroken — is it 
so with the youth, or does disappointment wait on knowl- 
edge ? He finds the world crowded with people, with ideas. 
If he would rank among, or even comprehend his contem- 
poraries, an infinite number of powers and accomplishments 
are expected of him, which his happy ancestors knew not. 
Each day discovers some new department of which he is 
ashamed to be ignorant ; each acquaintance has some new 
gift or art, in which he also would excel. He must learn 
all, practise all, feel all. He must become an epitome of 
the world, for his love of excellence will not let him rest. 
Happy for him, if in this distraction he lose not force and 
concentration ; happy, too, if this immense undergrowth do 
not stint his loftier aspirations. 

The youth alive to the merits of all, wishes to make 
all his own. He does not at first discriminate and seek only 
for the best ; it is only when his pinions beat against this 
invisible cope of time, that he acknowledges that all are 
not for one, and asks himself which is best. Then is the 
dangerous moment for his faith. Among all these modes 
of activity, his mind does not rest on any as the best, nor 
can it affix to any a precise value. What is prized in one 
age or circle, is thought worth little in another, and he is in 
danger of casting it all aside as mere matter of opinion, 
and following his own wild will. In no one person can he 
satisfy himself, and an unexpressed but firm resolve lives in 
the depth of his soul, to be himself superior to all. Some 



31 

find perfect satisfaction in justice, uprightness, reasonable- 
ness ; others live in an atmosphere of love, charity, hospi- 
tality ; others make life brilliant by cultivation, refinement, 
intellectual gifts. 

Among women, the different qualities are yet more varied ; 
they show themselves, not in a few decided modes of 
action, but in an infinity of little traits ; their feelings com- 
bine with all their perceptions and ideas ; and the mental 
philosopher who would explain woman by the same laws 
which answered for man, is as much at a loss as the scien- 
tific man who expects by the simple laws of Physics to in- 
terpret the subtle combinations of Chemistry. 

If the perplexed youth comes safe from the trial, his 
burning discontent with others becomes so much motive 
to excel. If he be really noble, he will continue to love 
others, though they do not satisfy him. Their wants will 
not excite a personal feeling towards them : he cannot 
estimate their powers, their temptations, but he can tell 
how far their deeds fall short of ideal perfection, and 
comparing them with this, he will keep its image ever 
lofty and pure ; and from all his disappointments he will 
come out with a perfect love for others, an entire faith in 
man's capabilities, a conviction of his power over himself, 
and a determination so to live as to satisfy his ideal. But his 
ideal has already been limited by time ; life is too short to 
be poet, philanthropist, philosopher, all in one ; days and 
nights come round with fearful rapidity, and each one with 
its appointed little duty, to teach man order, and remind 
him he is mortal. 

He soon receives another check. He has attempted 
something, which a companion apparently inferior did with 
ease, and he has failed. Why is it? He has spent on it 
hours, which, differently used, would have brought an ample 
harvest — he has tried faithfully, perse veringly. Why has 
he not succeeded ? He has done his utmost in vain, and 
he gives himself up to despondency. Shall we leave him 
here, to waste his powers and lose his ardor ? No — let us 
turn his disappointment into a valuable lesson. Let us 
show him that he has done his utmost of exertion in this 
particular instance, but has not used his utmost judgment 



32 

in choosing his 'object; he has not followed the leadings 
and laws of his organization. These laws are as inexora- 
ble as those of material nature ; not one component part 
must fall short, not one proportion vary, or the result dis- 
appoints us. Therefore I continually say to my scholars, 
not exertion only, but wise exertion. 

Let the young aspirant accept this second limit, and 
strive according to the laws of his organization : let his de- 
sires be as boundless, his efforts untiring, as before, but let 
them take their direction from the gifts Nature has bestowed ; 
by watching her and following her leadings, he will dis- 
criminate the possible from the impossible, and take the 
first step towards being a wise and happy man. He who 
does this becomes truly humble; he knows that to no one 
is the whole kingdom of mental gifts granted, and a very 
small portion may fall to his share : such as it is, he is 
bound to improve it to the utmost. His happiness depends 
on it; only by doing this in the right spirit, can he enter 
into and enjoy the greatness of others. He must appre- 
ciate all that has been done, and yet be contented to forego 
great and little things, if organization and circumstances de- 
ny them. He must feel that not only shining deeds, the 
genius of Shakspeare and Beethoven, are out of his power, 
but that every, even the minutest trifle, that organization 
and circumstances deny, is equally so. He must live 
among this shining host, and do homage to them, yet per- 
form his little circuit with a tranquil and contented heart. 
This is the greatest trial and the greatest triumph of man — 
to preserve his aspirations exalted, but his humility and 
obedience superior. He delights in putting his will into 
the path God has prepared, and finds in it a peace from all 
earthly vexations. 

The more light a man has, the more he dwells upon 
spiritual things, the easier this renunciation of temporal su- 
periority and power becomes. He realizes that in every 
action the motive and the consequence to the character are 
all, the concomitant circumstances nothing. He no longer 
strives to unite in himself all which he admires in others. 
He regards the shining deeds of the past as only the spray 
of the stream as it leaps into the abyss. If we try to catch 



33 

and form again the glittering bubbles, we shall fail. We 
should remember that in the still pool above lies the cause 
of this glorious show, in the green meadow below its most 
blessed effect ; and if the living fountain and the laughing 
plain are his, he cares not whether more or fewer sunbeams 
lent lustre to his waterfall. 

We come now to the third limit which awaits youth — 
that of circumstances. This is one which it often perceives 
first, and against which it rebels most, because this seems to 
be imposed by other persons, not by the will of God ; for 
the young do not know, that when we have done our 
utmost to move others, and in vain, their fixedness is ac- 
cording to the will of God — it is something which he has 
brought about, through manifold influences, for wise ends. 
They resent circumstances imposed by others, not seeing, 
behind the narrow or base motive of the agent, the wise 
purpose of the First Cause. 

The child is much to be pitied, who receives his constraint 
from the faults of others, and not from their wisdom and love. 
Perhaps no after influences can repair this early harm. 
The only way to make a child acquiesce in unhappy cir- 
cumstances, is, in all our teachings and other influences, to 
try to inspire it with confidence in the wisdom and love of 
God — to show it these throughout creation in the situa- 
tion of others — and point out to it elsewhere apparent 
evil as real good. If we can make the faith from 
these sources, overpower the continual fretting of its per- 
sonal feelings, it will be safe ; and even where we cannot, 
utter ruin is prevented, and good seed sown for future 
years. 



VI. 

My Dear Mary : 

I surrounded the youth with limits in my last, let me now 
explore the sides where nature has left him free. He shows 
his faith in the justice, the wisdom, the lovingness of God, 



34 

by accepting his organization and circumstances, and be- 
lieving that such as they are, they are precisely adapted to 
develope his individuality and secure his progress. He has 
no rebellious or repining thought because his gifts are 
slender or circumstances unkind ; he knows that what- 
ever is\ is right, and instead of fighting against the barriers, 
uses them as guides. This is often done without a settled 
plan ; we learn to do what we like to do, and can do 
best, but not always, and sometimes with self-reproach. 
This feeling arises from instances we have known of per- 
sons who, obeying one particular impulse of the organiza- 
tion, have in this way violated a higher law. Organiza- 
tion must not rule the vessel ; it turns the helm, but 
there are sails, and winds above, and powers with which 
it does not vie. It is a guide of earthly origin, and 
only gives direction to the soul's activity in the body, 
offers more or less aid to the moral nature, through the 
intellect and feelings, but never controls. But the earthly 
life, by the proper acting of which the moral nature is de- 
veloped, must have some direction — must move hither or 
thither in the universe — and this direction, organization 
and circumstances give. The soul in a new body and a 
new place, might find itself at a loss but for this officious 
adviser, whose counsels throng our life, from the cradle to 
the grave. At first she follows its suggestions implicitly ; but 
as she has the power of comparing and reflecting on all the 
news it brings, and drawing thence ideas of duty, she soon 
finds that the promptings of organization sometimes disa- 
gree w T ith these ideas. She ceases to trust it as a counsellor, 
and employs it as an assistant. She takes each matter into 
her own court — there lies the last appeal — there the soul, 
feeling her responsibility, calls before her all claimants, from 
those which ray their feeble influence from a distance, to 
her most dangerous and powerful neighbor, organization. 
The claims of God, of man, of her own organization, of the 
created universe, pass before her, and she tries to give to 
each its due influence. She can in a moment put down 
the greatest clamor of organization ; she can break the 
iron bonds of circumstance ; she can by her efforts set 
time at nought ; she shows us that she can, one after 



35 

another, put down every combatant. I would pursue this 
subject no further, had not the power of circumstances over 
the will, and of organization shewn in family traits and 
phrenology, been a stumbling block to many. If it will 
not be going too deep into philosophy, let us stop and see 
what power they are likely to exert upon the soul. 

We believe that the two objects of the Creator were 
happiness, and progress (which is the gratification of a 
finite intellect) — because the two elements of his nature 
discernible by us are love and wisdom, and because 
throughout the creation we perceive this incessant growth 
and change accompanied by, and causing enjoyment. We 
do not know whether happiness and growth or action 
are dispensed equally to each of the existences ; apparent- 
ly dumb nature has more action and less enjoyment, — or 
perhaps none, if it be unconscious; the animals seem to 
have more happiness than progress, they enjoy more than 
they accomplish ; and man enters with an infinite enjoy- 
ment into all the pleasures which his earthly home supplies. 

Throughout creation, then, reign happiness and progress ; 
all are living, developing, enjoying — there is no stepping 
backward — no annihilation — we are never pained by see- 
ing one particle of this matter, with which we have so much 
in common, annihilated 5 all that seemed like it, advancing 
science shows to be its change into more subtle elements 
and new forms. So strong is our faith in the indestructi- 
bilily of matter, that should an instance of its disappearance 
be forced upon us, we should blame our limited senses, and 
trust to future discoveries to confirm our belief. 

While we have this faith in the indestructibility of mat- 
ter, can we admit for a moment that spirit can be destroyed ? 
If it continue to exist, it must make progress or it will not 
be happy. Progress is synonymous with spiritual life. In 
breathing into man the breath of life, God gave him also of His 
life — gave him this impulse to progress, to live, this power of 
receiving impressions, of loving, and willing, which we call 
the soul. In our souls, then, we find the same conditions 
we observed in the rest of the universe ; but we volunta- 
rily obey these laws, which nature follows without a choice. 
Apparently, all that is required of unconscious nature is, 



36 

to move and interact in such a way that the greatest possi 
ble quantity of pleasure and service for men and animals 
shall be produced. Each atom of nature exerts at each 
moment many influences, in modes infinitely varied. Hence 
it charms us, and provokes us to search her out, and excites 
in us a corresponding variety of emotions. This is all na- 
ture can do ; but as our powers are greater, so is our re- 
sponsibility. 

The world without souls would not contain enough en- 
joyment to satisfy a benevolent God. So He has planted 
in it souls, which are, like all other existences, not station- 
ary, not defined, but rather powers capable of receiving and 
returning impressions. He put them in this growing, moving 
world, where each object forces them to live. He joined 
them to bodies, that they might sympathize with animal 
life and communicate with actual existences. He made 
those bodies subject to the same laws as nature, that they 
might love her and be interested in her operations. By 
thus minglinsr them with what was around them, He secured 
their being vividly impressed, and gave to life a mighty 
though invisible charm. Few people are aware of the en- 
joyment we have from being of the like nature with our 
abode, and its dumb dwellers. All the common joys which 
make earth pleasant — which keep man from being a mis- 
anthrope, an ennuye, a suicide — draw their strength from 
this like nature. Love of external nature, part of our in- 
terest in our race, of our love of children, and the pleasure 
we take in the confiding gaze of animals, originate here. 
We cannot tell why nature soothes us, life draws us, and 
we call our feelings instinctive. 



VII. 

My Dear Mary: 

There is a danger of our country, of our age, which we 
ought to guard against. In a life so full of excitement, the 
great ideas and interests are in danger — they are jostled 



37 

out, like the finest authors, by the shallow writers of a day. 
In educating a child now, it would be my chief aim to give 
it depth of character ; it should be not merely intellectually 
acquainted with the history of the creation, and of God's 
dealings with the children of men, but it should have a 
vivid and realizing sense of God's wisdom, love, and con- 
tinual presence. Often a child is impressed with this for a 
moment, then comes some minor fact or thought, and it 
passes from its mind. The great facts of God's existence 
and character, and our responsibility to Him, should have 
such hold that no other thoughts can displace them ; they 
should occupy in our minds the same space they do in real- 
ity — that is, should consciously penetrate our whole exist- 
ence. Only by doing this we satisfy their claims upon us ; 
not by barren assent or momentary feeling. Thou shalt love 
the Lord thy God with all thy heart — He will accept no 
less. Now, how in this bustling, crowded world, can we save 
children from this distraction, and secure to them depth of 
sentiment and strength of principle ? The first requisite is, 
that we be thus penetrated ourselves. If God is to us the 
supreme and ever-present Being he should be — if our de- 
sires, tastes and occupations, receive their limits from the 
moral sense — it will be shown in our daily life, and most chil- 
dren will imbibe it. The next requisite is, that we be open 
with them ; that we do not set apart ideas as above their com- 
prehension, nor keep from them the motives of our conduct. 
Let them sympathize with and enter into all we do ; let us 
show them that we practise the same submission to law 
which we ask ; let them see how our actions spring from 
feeling and truth, and they will regard these as real moving 
powers, not as dry precepts. Let us trust them, and call 
upon them for sympathy in all we do and feel. For them, 
nothing is too holy ; they have all the powers that we have, 
and those powers are fitted to comprehend the natural mani- 
festations of moral truth. They may not always fully 
comprehend the action, but they will see it in their own 
way, and perhaps with a purer spirit than an older person ; 
for Divine lips have declared, that of such is the kingdom 
of heaven. 

Another truth which they can early feel and keep pres- 
4 



38 

ent to their thoughts, is, that all which is done under the 
sun, is the small index of a mighty power — that the spirit 
uses this rude web of life only for support, while unfold- 
ing and nerving itself for greater flights. But this rude 
web is its appointed work for the season. We must not be 
depressed because it looks common and unworthy, nor for 
this must it be despised and abandoned ; it often gives the 
clue when spiritual insights are silent ; and when we 
consider that infinite spiritual powers descend into it, toil 
and grow in it — when we reflect that this labor, this 
mortal life, is the way which the Creator has prepared for 
this unfolding, we become reconciled to it ; and we wish to 
have it perfect in every part — so many strong threads of 
the intellect, so much soft enfolding of the feelings secured 
by steady and vigorous action. We cannot hasten the task, 
nor do it piecemeal, nor pause in it. We must lay in thread 
after thread, often ordinary, sometimes sad ones, — but to 
the placing of each many influences combine, and from 
each mighty results follow ; and according as each is wrought 
with fidelity, comes the spirit at last out of its mortal coil, 
strong and glorious, or feeble, tarnished, fallen from its first 
estate. 

This view of life is constantly present to me, and 
it gives me great consolation and patience in all my 
undertakings. I have often need of it in school, so little is 
accomplished, compared to my wishes ; yet I know that if 
we are all faithful in all things, our characters will rise to 
the utmost. I strive simply to obtain fidelity from moment 
to moment, and am not impatient for actual results — cast- 
ing myself on that spiritual law which decrees strength as 
the reward of exertion. 

I believe I have now mentioned the most important ideas 
which should be kept present to a child's mind. All oth- 
ers will fall into their right place. Levity, excess, incon- 
sistency, will vanish ; we may direct the activity wherever 
organization promises enjoyment and excellence. 

I must now consider how far organization guides us in the 
education of girls. Its first indication is one in which all 
experience, and I should say each person's consciousness, 
a^ree — to cultivate the feelings rather than the intellect. 



39 

Were the powers of man and woman precisely alike, it 
would be an anomaly in nature. The difference is one of 
the wisest provisions of the Allwise, and must be kept in 
sight in all attempts to unfold woman in her true propor- 
tions. We observe at once that all beings claim her love, 
that her heart is always ready to answer the demands on her 
intellect. Whatever she sees, knows, touches, she loves. 
Her love is not only more universal, than that of man, but 
more fervent, particularly her religious feeling. Let us fol- 
low the leadings of nature, and call forth and strengthen feel- 
ing in all its forms. She must cherish at the bottom of her 
heart, deep central fires, making the surface luxuriant. She 
must have sensibility, hearty sympathy with all human feel- 
ings, swift compassion for the afflicted, a heart wide enough 
to embrace the world, yet delighting to overflow the few 
with its treasures. When we recal the many occasions on 
which feeling makes woman seem to us almost divine, 
we feel that her intellectual developement is far less impor- 
tant. In these hours she beams upon man, far, far above 
him ; but how often, how constantly, does she fall below 
him ! How often is her sweetness turned to gall ! She 
sheds poison where she would pour balm ; trifles appear to 
her mountains, and the mightiest interests take no hold on 
her light and fickle nature ; she cannot understand nor ex- 
press herself; she moves as in a dream, scattering her 
precious gifts with sealed eyes. Feeling alone cannot se- 
cure her happiness — it may make her wretched — and we 
turn to the enlightening and saving power of the intellect. 
We would cultivate it for those who are beloved, because 
it increases, a thousand fold, their delight in loving, — we 
would cultivate it for the lonely, because it is a safe re- 
source. 

We may infer that the developement of the feelings is of 
more importance than intellectual culture, because God has 
not left it to chance or choice. Women, particularly, 
he surrounds from infancy with all that can excite feelinw. 
They are the cherished objects ; they live in the very heart 
of life — in the scene where all great events occur, where 
great griefs are borne, and where all outward action has its 
2'ise. Birth, death, sickness, all wounded feelings, seek 



40 

shelter in home, and through sympathy develope the hearts 
of wives and daughters. The play of social life, the sweet 
intercourse of families, the helplessness of infancy and of 
age, the sufferings of others, all excite and deepen feeling. 
The daily life of woman derives its interest from the hold 
which persons have on her feelings ; that she may please 
them, she cultivates the graces and embellishments of life — 
she seeks all womanly gifts — her charmed hands would 
smooth the pillow, her sweet discourse drive care from the 
knotted brow ; at her approach the little child should cease 
its wailing. Happy the woman who finds in her own family 
sufficient objects for such cares, — who knows the delight 
of blessing, and seeks books only to return, laden with 
spoils, to well-attuned hearts. But we cannot anticipate 
such a lot for all children, and it is the part of wisdom to 
prepare for the most lonely and dreary one. 

We have said that in the love with which all regard in- 
fants, and in the teachings of life, God has provided for the 
developement of the feelings, so that we need only guard 
against their being stifled. But the intellectual culture has 
not been thus universally cared for. The wants of daily 
life, and surrounding objects, solicit the intellect, but by no 
means so powerfully as the relations with others excite the 
feelings. Now there is a period, before all these relations 
are formed, before the feelings take possession of the soul, 
and before daily occupations press, in which there is leisure 
for intellectual culture. There is at this time great activ- 
ity, both of mind and body, and we should take advantage 
of it to give to each the culture which her situation, that 
is, her leisure opportunities and society require. If this 
period escapes, the activity will dwindle ; new ties and 
feelings will take possession of her, and it will be only too 
late that she will discover her neglect. 

If we allow to woman in general less extended cultiva- 
tion of the intellect than of the feelings, there are many 
circumstances which limit it still more. In no rank, from 
the queen to the savage, can woman be too gentle, too 
loving, too devoted ; but there are many situations in this 
wide range in which she may devote so much time to her 



41 

intellect as to crush and wither her more lovely traits. 
Thus the time allowed for the intellect, varies much more 
than that claimed by the feelings. It is more an affair of 
judgment, to be decided according to the other demands 
on her time. Let us take a woman in our society, see what 
degree of cultivation is attainable, ascertain what are the 
other claims upon her time, and then we shall know how 
large a portion of a child's hours shall be given to strictly 
intellectual culture. 

Filial, parental and family claims occupy generally a 
large portion of the time. And though we may sometimes 
think that as much affection might be maintained, and that 
the parties by more cultivation would become more worthy 
of love, still in acting out the golden rule, we must do, not 
what with our wants and tastes we in his place should wish 
our neighbor to do unto us, but what he, with his wants and 
tastes, wishes us to do unto him. 

Do not imagine that in making this marked division I 
forget that the intellect and the feelings are often and best 
cultivated together, and must never, even in school, be 
wholly separated ; far less would I put their claims in 
opposition. When we enter on infinite life, there will be 
no competition, — the soul can be all love, all wisdom, 
all action, — but while we are finite, this inexorable time 
marks out life as a portion to be divided. Before the 
night comes, is time for so many thoughts, but if the soul 
is given up to them, feeling languishes; — or is the day 
passed in little deeds flowing from feeling, perhaps the 
mind has not enlarged its limits. Many lives are passed 
in kind and humble offices, and we love those who lead 
such, and regret that in later life they have not always the 
happiness they seem to merit, because their minds have 
become contracted and barren. Other lives are passed in 
self-culture, and we receive from those who lead such, ex- 
quisite enjoyment, but they often disappoint us at home. 
Life seems too short to bring both thought and feeling to 
perfection, as few plants can produce both abundant leaves 
and flowers. Do not blame me, that I seem to make a 
choice between them — it is the tyrant time who forbids 
the fullness of both. 
4* 



42 

You know that I was half a convert to that writer on 
memory, who thought it could only be cultivated through 
the affections. A French writer has well expressed the 
same truth, by saying, that " sentiments have in our souls 
a continued existence, ideas only pass through them, and 
we cannot retain these fugitive ideas unless the sentiment 
with which they are inwoven has given to them life." The 
feelings certainly are a most powerful stimulant to the 
memory, yet the use of them as a means of strengthening 
the memory, is liable to many objections. Are not the 
instruments more worthy than the object ? Shall we bring 
down the divine affections, and bind them to the chariot of 
an unwilling intellect? — will they not themselves bear it 
along to high and heavenly wisdom, and do not we risk the 
loss of this when we yoke them to the service of mere 
knowledge ? Beside, is it feasible ? 

' We can call spirits from the vasty deep, — 
But will they come, when we do call for them ?' 

Will love flow where there is nothing to call it forth ? or 
are we to make a dearth round the heart, and then offering 
subjects, trust to that strong need of loving which has made 
the spider and the picciola dear to the prisoner? or are we 
to gild them with a borrowed hue, and say ' Love this, learn 
this, for my sake ' Is the mighty influence of a mother, a 
friend, to stoop to such petty ends ? — No, never will I drag 
high and strong motive from its appropriate sphere : by 
the right action of the intellect and of the feelings, the 
moral sense is evolved. They are its ministers — but if 
one servant wait upon another, the master goes unserved. 
The feelings are the oil of the moral life, — if we burn it 
for the intellect, the moral sense goes benighted. 

I would show to young persons the worth and the plea- 
sure of intellectual culture. I would tell them that thus 
can they best use their intellectual gifts ; but if they 
prefer to serve God in some other department, they 
can do so ; if they use their hours well, they can be 
good and happy without much intellectual culture ; but 
if they will once make the effort and acquire it, they 
will find it genial, as morning to the darkened earth. 



43 

But I would make no appeal to the child's feeling for 
me ; that should be reserved for desperate cases. The 
mother, who calls out her child's strongest feelings for 
a merely intellectual stimulant, lessens her power over 
him in a moral crisis ; and by accustoming him to yield to 
personal influence, instead of immutable ideas and the real 
worth of objects, she subjects him to an influence which 
may be his ruin. Ideas, ever the same, hold out the only 
shelter to dim-sighted, erring humanity ; whoso does not 
often visit their cell and strengthen himself by their saintly 
teachings, will find affections, influence of friends, favoring 
circumstances, all insufficient for him. Do you know that 
one of the greatest alarms I had in beginning my school, 
was from a friend who said to me — " You will have no 
difficulty in teaching them ; with such little ones, personal 
influence is the only motive ; they will love you, and will 
wish to please you, and will learn." I was aghast. In my 
pictures of a school, I had never thought of myself as hav- 
ing any personal existence. I was to present the objects 
vast and interesting as they really are, and if I made the 
air clear they would draw my little mariners, as the enchant- 
ed mountain did Sinbad's vessel. I pondered much on 
this remark of my friend, and rummaged over all my recol- 
lections to see if I had ever learned any thing for any body's 
sake; and at last resolved to adhere to my own plan until 
it failed ; to make my pupils learn for the beauty of learning, 
and because their corresponding faculties yearned for it, 
and to keep my personal influence, if I had any, to soften 
their hearts and manners, and ennoble their sentiments. 

A short experience made my friend's meaning clear to 
me : he meant my constant, unconscious influence. Know- 
ledge and the children were to be brought together, and 
I was the interpreter ; even if knowledge attracted them, 
they needed most minute guidance on the way. I must 
sympathize with each emotion, know each occurrence, exert 
constant control ; in short, be all eyes, all heart, all brain ; 
in the manner of doing this, consisted my influence. At 
first this seemed so great that I shrank from it ; these 
blushing, smiling children, changing countenances and 
changing opinion at each word or glance of mine, seemed 
wholly in my power, and I feared the responsibility. 



44 

My fear of its becoming excessive, was quickly dispelled 
by certain deficiencies and sluggishness, which called for 
whatever accumulated influence I might possess. Indeed 
I have often rained down all influences in vain. I con- 
cluded, therefore, that these things would adjust themselves ; 
and dismissing all self-consciousness, set my task before me, 
and perform it in all simplicity. I offer them all which 
can draw out and eniich their powers ; encourage the faint- 
hearted to daring beyond their hopes, and urge the strong 
one-, to their utmost speed. I love to shine into the midst 
of their perplexities, and see their brows relaxing, and 
the accents of despair changed for new ardor. I love 
to enter into the troubles and success of the feeble ones, 
and to make them feel that one of my little dependants 
is as precious to me as another. But I should never cease, 
if I were to tell you all my enjoyments. You know them 
all — you must feel them still — for though novelty on your 
side is worn off, it must revive partly from sympathy with 
each new claimant. 

When I present to them a new idea, my pleasure is two- 
fold ; I enter into their feelings, and I find a new worth 
in the idea. What sight can be more interesting than that 
of these fresh beings receiving a great idea ! We are wit- 
nesses of a stupendous mental spectacle. This mind, so 
wondrously formed for emotions of delight and admiration, 
placed in a universe fitted to excite them, experiences 
them for the first time ! What, except feeling it ourselves, 
can be more exquisite than this heaven-prepared meeting ! 
You would not let a friend go to Niagara, or to the shores 
of the ocean, for the first time, alone, lest you should lose 
his transports ; and can we behold with indifference these 
emotions, often overpowering to children, when truth breaks 
upon them in a new light — when the wonders of Nature, 
or the enthusiasm of such a man as Columbus is presented 
to them ? Children have many such excited and breath- 
less moments. Their transparent faces, their eager looks 
and exclamations, their insatiable demand for more, show 
how critical are such moments : their whole being is fused, 
and you may mould it as you will. How sweet it is then 
to fix and deepen this feeling, by mingling with it adora- 



45 

tion — by saying : " God, the wise, the loving, has done 
this ; he poises this mighty universe; he makes this moral 
law so beautiful to you ; he inspires the heart of men 
with noble desires, and guides them hither and thither, 
each to his own work." How can any one say the world 
is wilful, and earth-inclined, and must have its way, while 
we have these wondrous existences around us, — this ever- 
renewed inward life, — and these fresh young beings spring- 
ing beside us ! Our mission is to bring them together ; by 
the sublime spectacle of Nature and the profound teachings 
of Life to develope these new beings ; to set their faces the 
right way in their tender years, and God through his works 
will draw them to Himself. 

Borne on by our sympathy, we shall forget our pitiful 
individual existence in this manifold one ; we shall know 
only that we are doing our part in that for which the hu- 
man race is born. Do not suppose from my writing thus, 
that I expect each day to bring forth these great truths. I 
know that it is only through patient gropings, or through a 
rare flash of the feelings, they come to any one. But each 
day may prepare for them, and may grave them on the 
character. Each has also a harvest of less important but 
interesting knowledge. I have my share of troubles and fa- 
tigue ; mine may, in one sense, be called a day of small 
things ; for the hours are filled with influences, each of 
which seems slight, but all which form life and character. 
When a difficulty is vanquished, or ill-humor overcome by 
steadv, gentle treatment, I consider the learning or doing 
the thing required the smallest part of the lesson. For- 
bearance, perseverance, kindness, have been practically 
recommended, not only to the individual, but to all the 
school ; and the seed thus scattered, flies away and takes 
root where we least expect it, and without that dash of bit- 
terness personal experience sometimes produces. This 
is one advantage in a school ; the lessons are given more in 
the abstract ; the individual has no proud or angry feeling; 
she perceives that industry is always and everywhere better 
than idleness, that kindness is loved by all, and she chooses 
them herself, without feeling that she has been conquered 
or blamed. When any thing has been done amiss, I al- 



46 

ways make the blame as little personal as possible ; I say, 
that was an imperfect recitation, I hope I shall not have such 
another. If any thing unkind has been done, I am still 
more careful. I dread blunting the sensibility. If I am 
obliged to speak of it before the others, I mention it as a 
thing to be deplored. In short, I put every fault in its true 
light, and let their own consciences whisper the reproach. 
I am equally particular to let them see the punishment as 
one of the effects of ill conduct, not as inflicted by me, 
except in slight cases, when it is rather a remembrancer. 
I always impress on them, that the effect of faults and bad 
habits on themselves is more hurtful than the outward evils 
they call punishments. I try to make them enter into all 
my doings, into my justice and firmness, and see how I 
dread swerving from them. I consult them, ask their tes- 
timony, and show them how eager I am to learn the merits 
of each case, and how willing to yield my impressions to 
contrary evidence. Thus they find that the law is above 
all — even above the one who rules them — and do not 
run the risk of having their moral sense blunted by an un- 
acknowledged mistake, or exertion of arbitrary power. 



VIII. 

My Dear Mary : 

I was so carried away in my last, as quite to lose sight 
of the point I was about to consider ; I mean the propor- 
tion of time to be devoted to strictly intellectual culture. 

We have restricted the intellect in comparing its claims 
with those of the feelings ; but if we have narrowed its ter- 
ritory, we must insist that it shall possess it fully. If the 
hours are few, let them be hours of vigorous exertion ; let 
the scholars go, not merely as recipients, but as wrestlers, 
doubling their powers by wise exertion, making their minds 
robust, healthy, glowing, as the frame glows after great 
exertion. This intellectual pleasure is too sweet ever 



47 

to be foregone, when once known ; and each child, how- 
ever humble in capacity, may taste it : for it is the feel- 
ing of doing our utmost which bestows it ; and though 
not so intense to the pigmy as to the giant, it is to both far 
removed from lassitude and inaction. I would urge this 
point very strongly ; let the school hours be hours of 
training, severe training. Do not aim at teaching much of 
this or that, but offer what you think will excite and ex- 
pand most, and secure this constant growth. Make the 
sword keen and strong, and it will cut all the knots fate of- 
fers : then the youth comes from school lightly clad, tight- 
ening his girdle, fit for warfare and for burdens, contain- 
ing in himself that which will make him conquer the world ; 
but if he be cumbered with learning, like the Persian with 
gorgeous armor and baggage, he sinks before the first ob- 
stacle. 

The woman, and the perfecting of her powers, are the 
first thing, and knowledge is valuable only as the means 
of doing this. Another reason for insisting that school 
hours shall be hours of severe study, is, that intellectual 
taste and culture are often given at home, or by lectures or 
books ; and there is danger of the mind becoming ener- 
vated by this flood of easy learning, by always receiving 
and never striving. Receiving may give richness to the 
mind — it can never give strength. We are often disap- 
pointed in persons as they advance ; their strength, their 
persistance, is not equal to their promise. Perhaps this h 
owing to the absence of early intellectual training. It is 
well known that severe exercise gives the frame a strength 
quite beyond common walking. There is the same differ- 
ence in the force of a character which has striven, and one 
which has merely received. I have often thought of this 
as one of the compensations of life. One man is sur- 
rounded by every advantage ; he is the mirror of those 
around him, and the mirror reflects all that is rare and high 
in life ; be has no necessity for effort, gains no strength, 
and the slightest touch destroys him. Another lias almost 
no advantages — nothing but warnings, wants, difficulties — 
but he is forced to strive, to live. 1 would carry the par- 
allel between the frame and the character still further; 



48 

their dangers are the same. We seek strength for the 
physical nature in exertion ; but we want not strength at 
the expense of delicacy. We would have each nerve, 
each organ developed, so as to give to the soul a true re- 
port, and the greatest amount of pleasure ; but there must 
be nothing callous. Nor will we put out an eye to heighten 
the sensibility of the other organs. Just so in the soul : 
we want the greatest degree of firmness and power which 
is consistent with delicacy of perception and with the de- 
velopement of the whole soul. We would not stifle imag- 
ination, that we might increase common sense, nor would 
we take a child from actual life that she might go further 
in ideas. On the contrary, we would secure her being so 
much alive to all as to appreciate all ; and keeping always 
this balance, and trusting to the feelings to preserve deli- 
cacy, we would do our utmost to strengthen her intellect 
and character. 

This is the part of the teacher ; out of this wide uni- 
verse she is to choose that which will most excite and 
enrich the intellect, and she must insist on intellectual 
exertion. She must give just as much light as is needed to 
induce exertion, yet never so much as to make effort need- 
less. She must show the child at each step, that not only 
her cooperation, but her utmost exertion, is necessary, and 
that the teacher cannot make it for her, any more than 
she can take steps for a tottering infant. Just as the in- 
fant's little feet get strength and skill, so must the child's 
mind, by its own efforts ; and as it is worth more to the 
child to know how to walk and have the freedom of the 
globe than to have perambulated the nursery and garden in 
leading strings, so it is more to the youth to come into full 
possession of its powers, with but a small patrimony of 
knowledge, than to be loaded with a vast amount, and know 
not how to use it or obtain more. 

After all, what is the amount of any knowledge man 
acquires in his short life ? On his death-bed, his powers, 
his capabilities, belong to him ; the actual knowledge he 
will probably find almost an imperceptible unit, and of no 
account to a spirit clothed with immortality. Just so far 
as his intellect and feelings have elevated his moral being, 



49 

be will be happy and have insight ; but if his intellect 
have been only collecting earthly pebbles, he will find it a 
drawback, not an aid. Therefore we must keep in view, 
that this knowledge, by which we tempt out and strengthen 
the intellect, is only its mortal food ; created for the in- 
tellect, not itself the end of the intellect ; only to be elabo- 
rated by it, and thus enlarge the life of the soul. This 
consideration will guide us in our choice of studies and ob- 
jects to be presented. We shall not be solicitous that the in- 
tellect should be versed in history, thoroughly scientific, 
acquainted with art ; but we shall think it entitled to know 
what man has felt and done, to enter into nature and art, 
and we shall offer these, feeling that they are inferior to 
it ; not that they are mighty piles, and it must toil up 
them. We shall choose our studies far more freely, with- 
out regard to what is considered necessary or fashionable, 
except so far as it is not worth while to fight with the 
world we live in. We shall accept method, because it 
exists and suits us, and shall be, for the sake of the intellect 
itself, exact and thorough. 

The choice of what to present first is a great responsi- 
bility, and numerous have been the attempts to prove the 
superiority of one or another mode. It has been at- 
tempted, also, to combine all modes. I should not wish 
to advance any plan, where so many wiser persons have 
failed ; and I might yield, as most do, to the stream of 
circumstances, and teach what those around me teach, were 
I not convinced, that as each spot has its peculiar difficulty 
to be cleared up, just there falls the beam of light, if we 
will only receive it ; if we will only keep in view great dis- 
tant lights, and at the same moment use the little rays 
from surrounding circumstances. Some fail from gazing 
too fixedly on the great and distant orbs, others from 
feeling no influences but those of the nearest environ- 
ment. 

In practical cases, one of moderate insight may see better 
on the spot, than a person of the clearest vision at a distance ; 
and it is in this position, that I now set myself about educat- 
ing these children in that practicable manner, which shall 
most nearly satisfy my ideal. Circumstances I shall test 
5 



50 

strictly, and let none pass as unconquerable, without con- 
viction, and it is with great reluctance that I shall let 
them interfere with a free and complete developement. 

1 endeavor to fix definitely what is possible and what is 
impossible. I cannot enlarge the spirit which has taken 
form in each child ; but I can develope it harmoniously, 
and give to its tendencies the highest aim. The moral worth 
is perhaps always in our power, however unpropitious o gan- 
ization and circumstances may be. It may exist equal 
and the same in all modifications of these ; through the 
form and hue, which are incidental, we perceive the delib- 
erate and faithful fulfilment of all claims, which in each case 
constitutes moral worth. 

Thus, praise of character is more comprehensive than 
praise of natural parts and dispositions ; it not only implies 
these, but proves them to have been well exerted. They 
have not shown themselves at intervals, or by the side of 
low inclinations, but have by action developed around 
themselves suitable habits, and waxed strong. The char- 
acter is the silent but eloquent history of the past life. It 
is the complexion of the soul caused by the past and de- 
noting the future ; and, though Nature gives the first sketch 
and the materials, the character, and more especially the 
moral character, is the work of education. 

We should feel our responsibility for this influence, and 
should labor unceasingly to make it the best ; but we must 
recognize its frequent subordination to other and unforeseen 
influences. God holds in the hollow of his hand, 
and sends forth by unsearchable ways the resistless pow- 
ers, which smile the heart with a sudden conviction, 
no human teachings could bring about. Habits, follies, 
prejudices, — the crust of years falls off in a moment. 
A lofty palace is builded on the very plain where we wait- 
ed with our bricks and mortar, and could do nothing. 

It is often when we do our utmost for another, that we 
become sensible how little we can do. We suffer, we en- 
treat, we toil in vain, to root out the Upas-tree from our 
beloved garden ; the black cloud, Heaven-directed, solitary 
sails over the cherished spot, the lightning flashes, the foul 
plague is gone. 



51 

Disappointment is the celestial messenger who draws us 
to another world ; developement prepares us to receive her, 
and more especially fits us for this world. Only to a certain 
extent do Happiness and Virtue reproduce each other; 
the noblest growths require a deeper 'soil. 

It was formerly a favorite theory with me, that chil- 
dren should in a manner go through the experience of the 
race ; that the earliest poems, the earliest histories and ideas 
of life, should be first impressed on them. This seemed 
the natural order; that to make man what we have said 
he should be, an epitome of the ages. But, on examining 
the early writings, I found so many mistakes, so much 
that must be immediately unlearned, that 1 could not think 
of condemning a child to so much useless labor. I admired 
their freshness, their air of reality, the suitableness to un- 
informed faculties ; but I thought, that in giving a child 
too many of them, I should deprive it of the advantages of 
the present era, and, perhaps, inflict the evils of the past. 
We must conform to time and space. Let us admire the 
past, and cull from it whatever advantages it may possess ; 
but let us not seek to transport to it the child of the present 
century, or we shall make him that most wretched thing, a 
man misunderstood. Let us use for this age, the right it 
has over all the good and beautiful of the past. Doubtless 
it has its own disadvantages ; and if so, we have no right 
to add to these, the evils of the past. Life is too short for 
unnecessary mistakes. We must try to hit the happy medium 
between presenting an object exactly as it strikes the unen- 
lightened senses, and as it appears after being the subject of 
ages of experiments and philosophic inductions. If we pre- 
sent it in the former light, it will appear untrue to any child 
in the present enlightened atmosphere ; if we present it too 
much in the abstract, as it delights the scientific man and 
philosopher, it will be to him dry, devoid of reality. As 
life is the happy union of spirit and matter, so every thing 
which interests the living man or child must address 
itself both to imagination and sense. All objects, all sub- 
jects exist thus ; and he, who can seize and present them 
in this two-fold light, has the gift of teaching. 



52 

Did you never observe, in teaching children, how much 
more interesting facts become, when warmed by connex- 
ion with persons, or illuminated and their worth shown by a 
general law ? And have you never been disappointed on 
presenting, in a short and favorite form, a high idea or a 
scientific truth, by finding it a mere skeleton to them, and 
that you must go back and show them how the facts seemed 
thus to the first inquirer, and how he perceived one law 
after another, and advanced to the inner one, which ex- 
plained all the phenomena ? You are often obliged to form 
again the whole circumstantial envelope, and this is a dif- 
ficult task to those who have been all their lives reducing 
knowledge to its laws, and trying to carry it about in the 
smallest possible compass. 

But it must be done by those who would satisfy chil- 
dren. They bring to these phenomena of mingled spirit 
and matter, a being capable of comprehending both, and 
illustrating one by the other, and neither must be neglected 
in high intellectual developement. 

Will you allow me to illustrate this need of children, by 
a comparison more apt than elegant ? Did you ever hear 
of the experiment tried upon two dogs, one of which was 
fed upon the richest broths, yet could not be kept alive ; 
while the other, which had only the meat boiled to chip 
and water, throve very well ? Though the nourishment 
was scanty, yet proper action of the powers was induced. 
Just so, were I compelled to give children pure sublimated 
ideas, or mere actual existences, 1 would choose the latter ; 
but we shall all a^ree, that the child and the dog who have a 
due proportion of essence and substance will fare the best. 

Constitution must be consulted also. There is much 
natural difference in children's impressibility by external 
objects, and, of course, in their relative impressibility by 
ideas. In this we must follow Nature, seeking at the same 
time to enlarge her limits; and must be content to climb 
the hill of knowledge by whatever ascent offers, trustiug 
from the top to make all visible. 

Teachers are in danger of giving too much importance 
to those studies, which most interest themselves. Chil- 
dren are so imitative and sympathetic, that they will proba- 



53 

bly imbibe the taste of the teacher, and this gives her 
undue influence. I should, therefore, be particularly on 
my guard against any favorite tastes of my own, and 
should praise and excite those in which I was deficient ; 
thus casting my conscious influence into the scale, to 
counterbalance that which I unconsciously exercise. If we 
could not do this, if we could never excite what we have 
not ourselves, the sphere of excellence would be contracted 
in each generation. But as organization frequently denies 
to our pupils what we are most fitted to excite, so from our 
influence spring up new flowers and plants from sunnier 
lands ; we give warmth and impulse, and the seed unfolds 
according to its nature. 



IX. 

My Dear Mary : 

I considered, in my last, the influence of individual 
organization. I will now consider the state of the organiza- 
tion at each period of life. 

In the child, we find immense physical and intellectual 
activity, extreme quickness of the senses, and susceptibility 
to impressions ; a vivid conceptive faculty, and a flood of 
affection, bathing indiscriminately all which it approaches. 
We find a want of persistence in all its powers, bringing 
upon it often the reproach of volatility, but which is really 
the mode in which Nature accomplishes the vast work of 
these early years, without fatiguing any part. She makes 
the stimulus unceasing, but each organ ceases to work, as 
soon as it has done enough to strengthen itself. 

In youth, all the powers become discriminating. Where 
they attach themselves, it is with a stronger grasp. But 
they lose, partly, their instinctive character, and are more 
guided by the apparent worth of things. Affection be- 
comes feeling, and general activity is exchanged for enthu- 
siasm for chosen pursuits, and in these there is generally no 
want of persistency. Still the powers have not reached their 
5* 



54 

full strength. They sometimes break down ; and the 
feelings alternate from the wildest hope to blank depres- 
sion. 

In riper age alone, we possess our powers fully. Per- 
ception has a wider range, and we form more nice and 
quick judgments. We retain the impressibility of youth, 
and the impulses which we then obeyed blindly, we now 
rule and direct. We can employ each power longer than 
in more tender years, and need fear no burdens. 

In childhood, then, Nature bids us afford ample exercise 
to the senses, as inlets to the intellectual and stimulants to 
the conceptive faculties ; yet forbids us to exercise any 
long. She has placed the child here with as many organs as 
we have, amid the same objects we have, and thus signifies 
that it should at once become acquainted with each after 
its own fashion ; should be drawn out by each, that it may 
not for one moment lose its symmetry ; and should bury 
the imperfect knowledge it obtains in its bosom, to be 
the seed of a vigorous plant, whenever fostering circum- 
stances bid it burst forth. If the knowledge on any sub- 
ject be no more than that such an idea, such a person, such 
an object exists, it will yet be a fertile germ, and when the 
idea with all its details is again offered to the mind, it may 
be strongly grafted on the original impression ; and the child 
will receive the new information with double delight, and 
will retain it longer. I think this mode of opening the mind 
gives great richness, secures a wide harvest field, and, as I 
have said before, prepares deeper and stronger shoots than 
can be obtained afterward. There is no danger of over- 
loading, for I would communicate no more in number, 
only they should be well chosen ; each leading to great 
results. There is less danger of volatility and superficial- 
ness, because the ideas, having more weight, will make 
more impression. There is no fear of confusing the mind, 
because each will be introduced singly, simply, and with its 
proper associations. 

Perhaps I can make my meaning more clear, by show- 
ing you how I, being a governess and companion of my 
children, interest them in surrounding objects. Bear in 
mind, that all I expect to do, is to give them the advantage 



55 

of my experience. I have lived here longer than they 
have, and know more of this abode, and I tell them, 
all I have found out. But they have the same powers to 
comprehend this that I have, and the comprehension must 
be their work. I only draw their attention to it. 

Behind Mr. O.'s house is a hemlock grove, a favorite 
retreat of ours. It is fragrant and shady ; the fallen leaves 
give us a soft, noiseless floor, and the rippling water and 
the waving trees are a sweet accompaniment to play or 
study. The river bends gently round this little grove, 
and beyond is a strip of soft green meadow, the old bed of 
the stream. Here and there silent woods encroach on the 
brighter green, and then curve back, ashamed of their 
intrusion. A range of dark hills closes our amphitheatre, 
and across its canopy fleeting clouds chase, and darken it, 
as they do our beautiful basin between the Common 
and Brighton. The whole scene reminds me of that. So 
you may imagine me seated there one of your loveliest eve- 
nings, when the golden sky is mirrored in the golden wave, 
and the hills between shrink back, dark and frowning. 
Such an evening speaks to all. When my little ones have 
drunk in the beauty of the scene, and feel that longing 
which Nature always mingles with her repose, I say, 
" Will this last? Will the solid hills separate these fluids, 
or will all rush together presently in frightful confusion ? " 
They are astonished, and cry out, that it will last ; that it 
will be the same to-morrow, and to-morrow, and for ever. 
Then I ask them, why it should be so? how they are thus 
beautifully defined ? thus forcibly held apart? Who first 
separated them, and out of chaos brought beauty and 
order? I tell them, that He who said, " Let there be 
light, and there was light," breathed into this chaos, this 
brute mass, tendencies which secured form, order, and 
life, and which, in their operation, we call natural laws. 

I then make them observe these three substances, each 
by a natural law collected in itself, this solid eaith, this 
fluid moving water, this more fluid, invisible air. I remark 
on the different beauty which each gives to the landscape, 
make them observe how much more beautiful they are in 
union than either would be alone, and with how much 



56 

more pleasure we rest upon them, knowing that each 
works according to the design of God, according to immu- 
table laws, than if they were accidental phenomena, to be 
replaced in an instant by confusion. 

Having thus presented one simple fact in Nature, that 
it is not one and uniform, but composed of differing ele- 
ments, and existing and ordered by a First Cause, and 
having connected it with the beauty of the scene, I stop. 
Perhaps many questions about the formation of the globe, 
about solids, fluids, &c. will be asked ; but all these 1 put 
off, with a promise to tell more if this lesson is well re- 
membered. 

You, who know my love of Nature, will realize that I 
can thus take her in pieces without destroying her, can 
even give her a deeper significance. You will see that I 
aim at this in all my teachings ; to give to each object its 
widest significance, to connect it with many and high 
associations. This is the way to enlarge life and make it 
rich. 

There is no danger in offering to the mind facts and 
laws ever so early and abundantly, if at the same time we 
excite for the manifestations of these laws, love and admi- 
ration. If these keep pace, how vast the whole sentiment 
becomes ! Kepler, gazing at the starry heavens, and 
knowing its orbs and their mighty circuits, was capable of 
a higher transport than the ancients, who beheld them only 
as a studded plain spread over us, while Phoebus bathed 
his steeds in the Ocean. 

There is no fear that imagination, reverence, or love of 
beauty will die from excess of knowledge. They will 
thrive by it ; particularly, when knowledge is presented in 
its natural garb. 

Last evening, the hemlock grove presented new attrac- 
tions, and not only my little pupils from home, but most of 
those from the village, assembled there, eager for my ex- 
planations. 

I told them there was one fact they must observe in this 
landscape. They beheld it all as one. It was, as I had 
shown them, composed of different bodies, and these bodies 
had each its own position, occupied its own space ; and no 



57 

two could occupy the same space. Not one could exist 
and be evident, except as it occupies space. I made 
them hold their hands round their eyes, to form a sort of 
frame to the picture, and they perceived at once, that earth 
occupied a certain portion of it, water a certain portion, 
air the remainder. Then I bade them take away their 
hands, and behold the true extent of each object, and they 
would still see that every one of these occupied a position 
in space, and they could find nowhere an empty space, 
nor could get any definite idea of space, but as occupied 
by matter. They agreed that earth and water occu- 
pied their space, but some of them had always considered 
air as space, and could not be brought to recognise it as a 
substance. I was prepared for this difficulty, and had 
brought a thin India-rubber ball, not distended. I then 
made them observe, that our breath was invisible, and in 
fact air ; and putting the ball to my lips, inflated it in 
their presence. They felt it, and I placed a stone gently 
upon it, and they saw that there must be some substance 
beside the India-rubber, which supported the stone. By 
its resistance, they were convinced that air was a sub- 
stance. I also made them move their hands until they 
were sensible of the resistance of the air. I showed them 
how this existence in space was necessary to keep material 
things individual and orderly to prevent their mingling, 
and told them it was probably the first step from chaos. 
I explained how we got our idea of space ; from seeing it 
occupied by one body, and finding that this must vacate it 
before another could fill it ; and from finding the latter 
body sometimes fall short of, or exceed the space occupied 
by the first. This I illustrated by a little cove, which lay 
at our feet. It is difficult to judge of the size of a piece of 
water, and I asked them if they thought a boat, fastened 
just above, would go into the cove. They exclaimed, 
" No ; the water was but a speck, it would not hold 
the raft.'- I drew the boat down and into the cove, and 
it rode quite at ease. I made them observe, that length- 
wise the boat nearly touched the edge, and then said, 
" Can we bring in the raft also ? " Those who did not 
believe the boat could come in, were now ready to believe 



58 

there was room for the raft, which was a tiny one be- 
longing to the boys. We tried to draw it in, but even 
on the sides of the boat there was not sufficient space. 
We drew out the boat, and brought in the raft, and they 
saw that this, being smaller, left between itself and the 
bank a wider circle. Having thus given them an idea of 
absolute and relative space, I resisted all further inquiries 
until another day. 

My examples are not always perfectly similar to the 
phenomena I am explaining, and I am always particular 
to note the difference. Children are pleased with com- 
parison, and points of difference in objects generally similar 
are always remembered. A partial difference leaves room 
for the conceptive faculty, and makes them observe more 
accurately. 

Last evening, with the same living examples before us, 
I taught them to view this mass of earth, this expanse of 
water and of sky, not as continuous substances, but as col- 
lections of atoms, held more or less closely together. I 
told them that all bodies consisted of atoms, existing more 
or less closely together in a certain space ; that the inter- 
vening space must be filled, and we had reason to suppose 
that it was filled with heat or caloric. Therefore, when 
they thought of a solid, they must think of a body whose 
atoms are kept a little way asunder by the heat of our 
world ; such as earth, iron, wood. When they thought of 
a liquid, they must consider it as a collection of atoms, 
kept very much farther apart by the heat of our world ; so 
that they offer slight resistance to the hand ; and when 
they thought of air, they must conceive the particles so 
subtile and so distant from each other, that we cannot 
perceive them. If we could condense air, and bring the 
particles eight hundred limes nearer than they now are, 
we should have a fluid, with particles about as close as 
those of water. If we could cast out the caloric from 
water until its particles were nineteen times nearer than 
at present, we should have water as solid as gold. 
Again ; could we, by casting out more caloric from the 
air already condensed, make it nineteen times more heavy, 
we should have air as solid as gold. But we can- 
not, on our globe, make such great changes in the density 



59 

of matter, so they might still regard them as solids and 
fluids. 

I then asked, if they thought these bodies, so different, 
could exist in the same space, or whether the atoms, with 
their due separation of caloric, held each its own space ? 
They thought the liquids and fluids might penetrate the 
solids, without making them occupy more space, and in- 
stanced a sponge ; where much water apparently entered 
the sponge, without very much increasing its size. But I 
showed them that the water only entered by displacing an 
equal amount of air ; and proved this by plunging a dry 
sponge into water, and letting them see the bubbles of air 
which rose to the surface. I showed them how liquids 
lurked in many solids, each atom still occupying the same 
space it held by itself. 

Then I told them, that all around our globe was this 
soft subtile fluid air, ready to rush in at the slightest open- 
ing left by its stouter brethren. I told them, that in no 
place — in deep caves, leafy woods, cups of tiny flowers — 
was there a crevice so unattainable, that the thin air did 
not enter at the moment it was vacated by another body. 
It wraps us round, soothing, purifying, blessing us in a 
thousand ways ; and always maintains its own space, 
though it easily changes place, at the command of others. 
They are so familiar with the power of air or wind, 
in filling sails, that they could easily credit its resisting 
power. But I would not trust to this, and the first rainy 
day, performed some chemical experiments, showing the 
universality of the principle. 

They learned in this lesson that all bodies are composed 
of atoms, held at greater or less distances, generally by 
caloric, and that they are called solid, fluid, or aeriform, 
according as the common temperature of our globe holds 
them near, distant, or more distant, from each other. 

They learned, also, that not one of these atoms can 
penetrate or encroach on the other ; that the caloric which 
keeps them asunder, though invisible, maintains its rights ; 
and that no two atoms can exist in the same space. 

This is the way I sum up to them, what we have learn- 
ed from each conversation. Though useful to them, it 



60 

must be tiresome to you. I will in future omit it ; and, if 
you please, drop my character of Scheherazade, who was 
always an extremely provoking personage to me, and 
state my lessons in their regular course, but not so homoce- 
pathically divided. Only bear in mind, that they are adminis- 
tered thus, for I have a dread of the Tarpeian mode of 
crushing the intellect. 

Perhaps these narratives are not so interesting as the 
conversations themselves. You may prefer a sketch of my 
present arrangements — which you must remember are for 
girls from the age of four years to that of sixteen, none of 
whom have begun with me — and then 1 will describe my 
mode from the very beginning. This will be more orderly ; 
so you must not complain if my next be full of nursery 
details. 



X. 

My Dear Mary : 

Do you ever find an over-exactness among your schol- 
ars ? I have one who perplexes me very much. It is 
absolutely essential, that a fact should be affirmed in the 
most unconditional manner, or she cannot rest in it. Now 
this is what I avoid. In establishing the laws of Nature, 
it is in conformity to truth to mention the majority of in- 
stances which prove the law first ; and afterward, the ex- 
ceptions. If you are speaking to one somewhat advanced 
and intelligent, and who knows that all laws have apparent 
deviations, you may tell her these and the cause, and she 
will comprehend all. But if you attempt this with a 
young child, it will be puzzled, and feel no confidence, 
and far less satisfaction. 

To insure this satisfaction, which is one of the delights 
to which each step of knowledge is entitled, I state the 
laws in general terms, but not such as positively exclude 
deviations. But sometimes, in speaking of physics, when 
they have asked if it were always so, I have said, " Yes ; 



61 

except when the laws of higher beings, such as vegetables 
and animals, come in with different powers, and take pos- 
session of these substances." But I have seen by their 
faces, that this disturbed them, and was not the way. It 
is not the way we have ourselves been treated. If we had 
not rested at each point of our progress in full faith, we 
should have been discouraged. Even now, some of the 
theories and laws most satisfactory to us, are erroneous 
conceptions of more simple laws, which we cannot at pres- 
ent reach ; but for which our vision, by faith and experi- 
ment, is strengthening itself. Now this little scholar is not 
perfectly satisfied by my statement of laws, and teases me 
continually to make it absolute. For instance : if I say, 
"Water never runs up a hill, or ascends;" she says, 
" What, never ? never ? never in the whole world ? Not 
one drop ? not one tiny little drop ? " and insists on an an- 
swer. She troubles me particularly about those laws, to 
which she must soon learn an exception in organized 
beings. For instance : beside the exceptions in physics 
to this law of liquids, she must soon know the circulation 
of the blood and of sap, and I am afraid her faith will be 
destroyed. Neither do I like to have her think that I have 
kept back part of the truth. 

It happened, the other day, that one of my most punc- 
tual, industrious little pupils was late at school. On com- 
ing in, she whispered the cause to me. Afterward we had 
one of these objections raised. Grace did not wish to learn 
any thing as a law, that I could not assure her was always 
true. I said, " Do you remember that last week I praised 
Mary for her industrious use of time, and her punctuality ? 
and you all agreed with me, and said she was never late ? 
Now she was, to-day, nearly an hour later than the time. 
She left home early, impelled by her love of punctuality ; 
but when she was nearly here, she met a little child crying, 
because it had lost its way. She pitied the little one, and 
knew that she could do more good by carrying it home, 
than by coming punctually to school. She has to-day 
failed in her usual regularity. Do you still believe in it? 
Is she punctual ? " They all cried out, " Yes ; she could 
not help it ; she was orderly and kind, too." I said, 
6 



62 

" Yes ; she was punctual, except when a more important 
interest, (the child's happiness,) laid claim on her, and put 
in motion higher powers, (compassion and benevo Ince ; ) 
these suspended the action of the lower interests and 
powers. Thus your confidence in physical laws will be 
firm, though they be sometimes superseded by organic 
laws. God has ordered them all, and each has its 
worth. 

Before I begin the details of my teaching, let me tell 
you how we pass the day. We rise early, and have no 
fixed employment for the first hours. We pass them 
chiefly in the garden and grounds. We tell each other 
the news of the place, and make arrangements for walks 
or rides. The children run off some of their exuberant 
spirits, and are ready to meet me in the school-room at 
nine. From nine o'clock until twelve, every thought is 
given to study by the older pupils. The little ones have 
half an hour's intermission. After twelve, we occupy an 
hour with music and drawing, and half an hour with calis- 
thenics, which are my hobby, and shall be mentioned in 
due place. Then we have an hour's intermission. Two 
more hours are given to study, and half an hour to needle- 
work ; making five hours of study, and two of lighter em- 
ployment for the older pupils, and less for the younger. 

I allow no frolicking, no delay, no wandering of the 
thoughts. Pens, pencils, water, all that can be wanted, 
are in their places, so that no time is lost in seeking. 
Seven hours are not too much for the intellect and ac- 
complishments. You will think I allow a short time to 
needle-work ; but most girls occupy their leisure in little 
tasteful employments, and half an hour's careful practice 
every day will give the power of sewing neatly. It is 
extremely important, that every woman should know 
how to use her needle skilfully and expeditiously, so that 
this family care need not be a burden ; but that secured, 
I should not be in favor of her giving many hours to sewing, 
unless circumstances required it. 

At five o'clock, the labors of the day are over. After 
dinner, we ride, walk, sit on the piazza, or do whatever 
we fancy. Our days are very much alike; we have no 



63 

stated holydays; but when fine weather, or inclination in- 
vites, we give up our studies and make long expedi- 
tions into the woods, such as you and I have known in 
former times. 

Now, if you think that I require too much, you must 
recollect, that only seven hours of the twenty-four are 
devoted to both study and accomplishments. This al- 
lows ample time for sleep, common occupations, and 
amusements. It is during these hours, that the more im- 
portant education is carried on ; the religious, moral, and 
social nature is brought out, and the intellect also receives 
stimulus and developement. There are many opportunities 
in our walks, in conversation, and in reading aloud, of in- 
teresting my little companions in the sciences, and in history ; 
and you may be sure that I do not neglect such. Thus 
my teaching is linked with home and future life, not re- 
garded as a discipline, to be thrown off as soon as possible. 

I begin with accomplishments quite as early as mental 
cultivation, that I may avail myself of the quickness of the 
youthful senses. Experienced teachers assure us, that all 
children are as capable of learning to sing and draw as of 
learning to read and write. This seems almost incredible 
in this country, where the eye is not called on to discrimi- 
nate forms, nor the ear to discriminate sounds, until both 
have been occupied and confused by multitudes of sights 
and sounds not discriminated. At the age of five years, 
I give a short lesson daily on the piano ; by a lesson at first 
of fifteen minutes, and afterwards of half an hour, my pupils 
make some proficiency in a year. Besides cultivating the 
ear for music, the eye is at this age quicker to learn the 
notes, and the fingers more pliant to play them; thus the 
mechanical difficulties are overcome, and they will read the 
notes as easily as letters, and their musical talent will be 
freely developed. 

In the same manner, I put a pencil into their hands, and 
bid them imitate the objects around them. They were not 
very successful in this, and I thought they were disheart- 
ened by the want of resemblance ; therefore I gave them 
easy pictures to copy. 

You will be amused by the regularity with which their 



64 

occupations alternate. We need some rules, or we shall 
forget ; forms, you know, have been likened to casks, need- 
ed to contain the wine ; rules have a similar virtue. Beside, 
I only describe what my school has been for several months ; 
when they are tired of any exercise, or are proficients in it, 
I shall omit it, until they can return to it with pleasure. 

Do not suppose that I begin so many accomplishments 
and studies thus early from an undue desire to bring the 
children forward. I do it from a far-reaching economy ; 
believing that moments now, while the organs are suscep- 
tible, are worth hours hereafter ; and that we should not 
develope one sense more than another at an age when 
Nature has left them all equally open. By exercising 
all the inlets as equally as possible, physical and intellec- 
tual symmetry are preserved. This should be done at ev- 
ery period, but particularly in extreme youth. 

Calisthenics 1 do not alternate ; they are as needful one 
day as another. I am desirous to develope the children 
as fully in person as in mind ; for by neglecting any one 
of our numerous muscles and organs, we bring on ourselves 
disease and feebleness. We are not aware of what beauty 
the human form is capable, until we behold some rare and 
fine specimen ; we are not aware of its nervous power, 
until we see the feats of some Arab or trained athlete ; 
then we ask ourselves, u Was this little, crooked, and 
faulty figure, which answers my purpose so ill, and often 
cumbers me, intended for such might and beauty ? Why 
has it fallen short ? " We answer, " Both strength and 
beauty depend in a measure on your training. Had you 
treated each part with proper regard and justice ; devel- 
oped, not only the muscles which civilized life requires, 
but all which you found there, strength, beauty, and cheer- 
fulness would be yours. But you have directed your 
nervous energy to the most clamorous challengers, and 
left all minor claimants to starve, and dwindle away ; that 
you live where your intellect is constantly excited, and that 
life is to be supported, is no excuse for your indiscretion. 
Look at that Bedouin Arab ; admire the muscles which 
swell his arm, and behold your own, where they have found 
a grave ; he has obeyed physical laws ; given his frame 



65 

free developement ; but you have confined and partially 
annihilated yours, and behold the long train of diseases 
that have followed. On woman, especially, this unnatural 
feebleness presses ; it doubles all her burdens ; robs her of 
her charm. It is my aim to free these young girls from all 
unnecessary trials. I have a book, in which minute exer- 
cises are laid down for exercising in turn every muscle ; it 
also contains directions for walking well, a rare accom- 
plishment. These exercises are not violent, but gentle ; 
for the muscles are invigorated by being stretched, or by 
supporting a weight, more than by any sudden exertion ; 
some are for the chest, and must materially strengthen it 
against our climate ; others are for the carriage of the 
head, which gives such nobleness to the air; some are for 
the ankles, and these are the best foundation for dancing. 
Calisthenics are taught as introductory to dancing ; but I 
would not lay them aside for dancing ; they should be 
practised daily until the young person is grown up, and 
we should see healthy and elastic forms. I say nothing of 
our dances, though they are frequent both in hall and on 
the greensward ; for it must be confessed, that though 
mirth and gayety wait on our entertainments, the Graces 
are not always present. 



XL 

My Dear Mary: 

You ask me for my specific methods. I will begin, 
then, by speaking of my plans with little children, with 
whose training I have had most practical experience. It 
is needless to expatiate on the vast amount of information 
which a child acquires in the first years of life, like a Chi- 
nese gardener, chiefly by an infinity of experiments, with- 
out much reflection. All it can touch, taste, examine, 
it becomes acquainted with. At the end of two years, 
its various experiences have excited not only sensations, 
but thought and emotions ; the impression produced by one 
6* 



66 

object remains on the mind, and is compared with the im- 
pression made by another ; remembrances of pleasure and 
pain excite emotions, of which the object is not present. 

A new birth of feelings and ideas, in addition to those 
produced by external objects, arises from the power of 
recalling past impressions ; and over these the soul's indi- 
rect control is complete ; she cannot recal them at will ; 
she cannot control the original impressions ; deformity 
will produce pain ; nobleness will excite admiration ; but 
she can give herself up to the most important, and dwell 
in them ; and thus secure their frequent reproduction with 
increased power. This mental law is as strict as the law 
of circumstance ; we recognize it practically in many 
ways, as in habit, in the advice given to people to drive 
useless anxieties from the mind ; but we do not regard 
it sufficiently in the education of children, or in self- 
education. To banish pride, malice, or meanness, is but 
a small part of the government of the thoughts; each 
thought, both in nature and importance, should be subject 
to a strict surveillance. 

Above the low horizon of the Laplander's imagination, 
bounded by eternal snow T s, the idea of his mission rises no 
higher than the bare support of life. The Greek, passion- 
ately fond of his sunny skies and vine-clad hills, becomes 
a fountain of beauty ; and places virtue in exalted patriot- 
ism. Each obeys external influences. He, who feels 
most deeply and dwells most intently on the wrongs of the 
slave or prisoner, becomes a Wilberforce or a Howard. 
He who deplores most the spiritual bondage of man, be- 
comes a Luther. By a voluntary heightening of such 
impressions, these men secured their permanent influence 
on their hearts ; and petty and selfish interests died out. 
Thus effect follows cause unfailingly ; but the will can 
modify the cause. It is a power given to redeem us from 
the bondage of circumstance. 

Now it is through these impressions, that we are to help 
to develope the soul ; we may modify and influence the 
impressions by our expressed opinion, and thus suggest 
particular modes of acting ; but we can never exercise 



67 

a direct influence on the soul. We may give direction 
to the developement, through the objects and circumstances 
with which we surround the child, and by our interpreta- 
tion, we may modify first impressions, and leave new ones 
on the mind. Thus, if a child be timid, we may keep 
from it studiously all which can excite its fears, and 
present cheerful objects ; or we may take it by the 
hand through dark places, talking unconcernedly all the 
while, and showing ourselves fearless ; or we can take it 
near some great animal, and let it exhaust its fear and 
wonder, and then say, " How much mischief it might do, 
if inclined, but it is gentle as a lamb ;" and even induce 
the child to touch it. With a child of little physical 
strength and excitable nerves, the preventive system is 
best ; but I believe that those who can bear it, had better 
measure the danger at once. 

Perhaps I should have spoken before of the necessity 
of children's feeling perfect confidence both in the love and 
justice of those who are around them ; this is the germ of 
a higher faith, and is absolutely essential to educate them 
even for this world. 

Were I to enumerate all which is required in a teacher, 
I might as well draw a perfect character at once ; for 
teaching engages to all the virtues. But I am too con- 
scious of my own inadequacy, to attempt it. The teacher 
should be one of those persons in whom the good and true 
appear agreeable. It is treason against virtue, to be good 
without being agreeable ; that is, to think obedience to 
principle, in the great affairs of life, an excuse for neglect- 
ing the more delicate traits and minor charities ; and when 
the faults of character are deficiencies, and therefore less 
appreciable, the evil influence on children, who cannot dis- 
criminate, is incalculable. A teacher must also possess 
tact ; a quick eye for the right moment to impart know- 
ledge, to praise and to chide. She should have the habit 
of observing physical circumstances. Physical laws are 
paramount with children ; hunger, thirst, sleep, are on 
them irresistible claims : it is only when we have more to 
set against them, that we can ward them off for a time. 



68 

Not enough regard is paid to the physical peculiarities of 
children. A state of rapid growth and change must be a 
state of extreme irritability, and occasional feebleness ; and 
this must never for a moment be disregarded, or the mind 
and character will suffer. Nothing contributes more to suc- 
cess with children than a nice perception of their state. 
Those are happy whom Nature has thus favored ; others 
must seek it by becoming acquainted with mental and 
physical laws, by disinterestedness, and by endeavoring 
to enter into the feelings of others. We may imagine 
how much there is in choosing the right moment, if we 
observe a person who always chooses the wrong one, 
and represent to ourselves the influence on the child. 
The child is eager to examine certain tools, or to watch a 
glazier, and the mother calls it away to listen to a story. 
The child is unwilling to leave the window ; she urges it, 
and perhaps renders it undecided between the two, which 
is a lasting injury ; or she prevents its becoming practi- 
cally acquainted with what interested it. and allows its 
curiosity to die away without the natural result of increased 
knowledge. I believe half the indecision and unreason- 
ableness in the world is caused by such injudicious treat- 
ment ; and therefore I dread to check or unsettle any thing. 
If the balance in matters of choice and expediency, inclines 
ever so little one way, I throw my weight into that scale, 
and bring forward all the arguments on that side. Little 
children need this confirmation and^support. I state both 
sides fairly at first ; but after a decision, I allow no regrets 
or looking back. They cannot unite all advantages, and 
they must put those which are unattainable out of their 
thoughts entirely. 

A teacher who has this tact, will find many opportunities, 
even with children two or three years old, to direct the in- 
tellectual activity ; and I must confine myself to this at 
present. There is more voluntary and conscious action 
upon the intellect than upon the feelings. The feelings 
are only to be kept alive in their first freshness. Perhaps 
we can never be more loving than children are, though our 
love may embrace a wider field, or be more concentrated ; 
but we can actually think and know more. 



69 

We can put children into connexion with external things 
through all their senses. We can assist them to recal past 
occurrences ; to imagine themselves in new scenes, and 
their playthings turned into chariots and horsemen. We 
can make them discriminate, trace cause and effect, and 
distinguish these from accidental sequence. Size and form 
may be taught by actual objects. Let them link each 
new fact to some old one, and give it its place in the 
mind ; children's minds would never become so chaotic, if 
civilized society did not introduce many worthless things, 
and keep out of sight many that are valuable. 

When their attention is directed to some fact, children 
will ask many questions which it is difficult to answer. 
They should not for the sake of making the subject appear 
more easy, be answered otherwise than with perfect accu- 
racy. State the cause as simply as you can ; and if they 
cannot understand, tell them they will, when they have learn- 
ed more in other ways. Do not expect to satisfy them ; leave 
something for the future ; this is the condition of our know- 
ledge. Let your language always be in accordance with fact, 
and not with vulgar errors. Always speak of the earth as a 
globe moving round the sun. Invest the sun with his 
proper dignity ; do not let him be a larger candle. Speak 
of a month as the time in which the moon revolves round 
the earth ; a year as the time the earth occupies in revolving 
round the sun. Speak of the simple way in which the earth 
makes it day and night for little children in different countries, 
by constantly offering its different sides to the sun ; and 
then, at another time, speak of it as always rolling round the 
sun, and being inclined so that each country has its different 
seasons. All this will make their ideas more clear when 
they begin to study, and they will have none of those mis- 
conceptions which cling in spite of conviction. You may 
think this too much for a child four years old ; but if you 
observe, you will find all children have some ideas about 
these luminaries, and are very inquisitive about size, shape 
and distance. The moment any thing becomes an object 
of perception, some notion of its nature, size, &c, is at- 
tached to it ; and it is desirable that these first notions 
should aid instead of impeding the mind. If false concep- 



70 

tions become fixed, the mind will not easily part with 
them, and perhaps will be led to doubt other things which 
are true. The faculties are brought out by stating things 
thus; the thirst for knowledge is satisfied, instead of ex- 
pending itself in a thousand trifling questions ; excellent 
tastes and habits are formed ; and the actual power in- 
creased. As children grow older, a greater variety of sub- 
jects may be introduced, and conversation may be made a 
preparation for the study of the sciences. How easy, 
when giving any thing to a child, to remark on its shape, and 
its difference from other bodies ; to ask if it is bounded by 
straight lines or curves. Let it observe that the straight 
side is always shorter than the crooked one ; that all curves 
resemble a ball, and when laid on a flat table, touch 
it in only one spot, while straight sides cut each other, and 
make sharp corners or angles. Show a bit of wood and a 
bit of lead, and make the child observe how much heavier 
one is than the other, and ask which would be the largest, 
an ounce of wood, or an ounce of lead. Fix the distinction 
between the weight of a thing, or the force with which the 
earth draws it, and the volume of a thing, or the space it 
occupies. Ask how many sides a cube has — make the 
child show that it must have two to contain its length, two 
its breadth, two its thickness. Ask which will have the 
longest sides, an ounce of iron cast in a six or an eight- 
sided form. Set two of the children running, to show 
parallel lines going on harmoniously. Take two of dif- 
ferent tastes, and represent them as starting together, but 
constantly diverging ; and show how two, who from opposite 
places perceive an object, hasten toward it in converging 
lines. You can say, here is Fanny going from me to her seat ; 
she has described a straight line ; Sarah would have de- 
scribed a parallel one, but she was attracted by the flowers 
on the mantel-piece, deviated insensibly, and performed an 
irregular curve, and therefore reached her seat later — for 
a straight line is the shortest in the physical, and also in 
the intellectual and moral world. 

Every child should have blocks or counters, that he may 
practise numbers. He can count them into bands of five 
and ten, and then consider the collections as units, and 



71 

count out five fives or five tens. He will practise this for 
ever, if a little life is put into it. You can say, " I am 
tired of these little companies of tens, 1 mean to have a 
hundred in each company, and get as many as I can mus- 
ter." Then you can extend his ambition to a regiment, to 
an army, only let him get the power of treating hundreds, 
thousands, &lc, as units. In the same way let him divide 
whole numbers, until he looks upon a unit as a collection 
of parts, large or small, as we please to make them. 

" Mamma, I have a great many robins to-day and only 
one cake : how shall I divide it ? " Divide it into as many 
equal parts as you have robins, and tell me what share each 
will have. " Oh mamma, to-day I have but three robins; 
to-day each will be satisfied." And again, " To-day I have 
six robins and two cakes ; will they have more than they 
had yesterday, or not so much ? " It is very unwise 
to put off fractions so late as we usually do, in teach- 
ing arithmetic. They are as simple and as important 
as whole numbers ; the dividing of a whole thing ap- 
peals to children's senses as much as the adding of separate 
things. 

When walking, let children make some geographical ob- 
servations. They can probably find sufficient variety of 
land and water to afford assistance to the conceptive faculty. 
Let them define actual objects, however small ; apply the 
name of shore, and observe whether it is steep or sloping 
— whether it has bays, capes and promontories, or runs in 
an unbroken line. Let them make miniature islands and 
lakes. If they live near a brook, let them observe that its 
waters flow into a river, and thence into the sea. Many 
children think, as the ancients fabled, that streams are 
the offspring of the ocean ; and they are often perplexed 
about their direction and mouth. In the spring, when the 
snow melts, plenty of rills make their way downward, uniting 
and swelling, until they find a recipient of their waters. 
I remember the delight with which I used to watch these 
mimic rivers ; and I suppose it is pleasant to most children. 
Let them see that the slightest inclination, is sufficient to 
determine their course, but that then they roll lazily along ; 
while those which find a steep descent, tumble and hurry 



down, wearing deep channels. Let them stop the course 
of a stream and make a lake, and then let the lake burst 
through and make a torrent and a waterfall ; and in short, 
try with it all the experiments which Nature performs on a 
large scale. 

Then let them observe hills, valleys, and level spots ; 
well-watered and fertile plains, and barren sands. Notice 
the different vegetations of different soils and situations ; 
the large-stemmed and juicy-leaved plants of the meadows ; 
the slender compact stems of those on the hills, fitted to 
yield to the winds. All these observations help to distinct 
ideas of physical geography, and are something actually 
seen, to refer to when it is taken up as a study. 

Let children early classify objects, first generally, accord- 
ing to the more obvious differences ; then by the minor dis- 
tinctions. First lead by your questions, then demand a good 
definition without any questions. Linnaeus has said that 
fourteen Latin words are sufficient to give all the dis- 
tinguishing characteristics of each plant. Almost every one 
of these words is an answer to an imagined question. Ask 
how many hard things there are in the room — how many 
of these are metals — how many metals are bright — what 
are their common uses. If a child goes to a menagerie, 
ask, how many of the animals were quadrupeds — how 
many had claws, horns, shaggy hair, &c. Ask if any two 
species were precisely alike, and in what consisted the dif- 
ference. Let a child mention all the things in the room 
which belonged originally to animals, or to vegetables, or 
that consist of inorganized matter ; which of these has man 
altered, and how; how are vegetables and animals known 
from other bodies ; do vegetables ever run about, or drag 
people in carriages ; do they love people and seem grate- 
ful for care. All things are in a state of change, increasing 
and growing ; is the process the same with all ? See that 
heap of sand ; it is larger than it was yesterday — how did 
it increase ? — has it kept its form, and spread, as a calf grows 
into a cow? — has it new properties and organs, because it 
is larger ? Is there any thing like flowers or fruit developed ? 
— can you predict what its shape will be to-morrow, if it 
becomes larger? — or will it have new particles added to 



73 

its length or breadth, on whichever side the winds deposit 
them? Here are two geraniums: gardener, give this a 
little water, and leave the other untouched ; we want to 
see if the wind will bring more leaves, and add to these, 
as it carried sand to the sand-bank ? No — the wind has 
taken no heed of this poor geranium ; it has drooped ; 
but the other has grown. W/ hat tall shoots ! what broad 
leaves ! Has the wind added any thing to it? Are there 
any seams in the leaves and stem ? No ; they are whole ; 
nothing has been joined on the outside, but something 
has been drawn up inside : the water which the gardener 
gave it, was taken by its little mouths, into the roots, and 
has passed up and helped to form broad leaves and stems. 
If we had given the sand-bank water, would the sand have 
grown ? No ; it would have increased by the addition of 
the water ; but it could not have made the particles of 
water change their nature for its own. But the plant and 
the animal do this. 

How can you distinguish the animal from the vegetable ? 
Here is a strawberry-vine, let us examine it: here is a 
long slender body supported at each extremity by many 
little props. Are they legs ? has it eyes or ears ? or any 
senses to put it in connexion with the external world ? is 
there any appearance of choice in it ? No ! it knows no- 
thing of other bodies ; cannot desire to approach or avoid 
them ; it is wholly occupied with getting its own living, 
and bearing Brobdignag strawberries. Here is a spectrum, 
an insect not uncommon in woods, but seldom detected, from 
its close resemblance to the plants to which it clings. Un- 
less we saw it moving, we should never imagine it to be 
more than a bundle of thorns and straws, loosely put to- 
gether ; it is the insect which, for a long time, made it 
credible that sticks walked about, and sprouted legs. But 
it has eyes and legs ; it is attracted and repelled by many- 
external circumstances, and fills its short life by many- 
voluntary goings and comings, and enjoyments unknown to 
us. Even the lowest animals have some senses, some 
sensibilities, some choice, and generally they have the 
power of moving and obtaining variety. They are lighter 
and more flexible, and can exist without food longer than 
7 



74 

plants. Every thing about them is adapted to their mode 
of life. What a funny world it would be, if all the animals 
stood still, and all the plants walked about ! Imagine a 
landscape composed of an elephant, a dromedary, a bevy 
of ostriches, and a group of monkeys, all rooted to the 
ground ; while the oaks, and stately palms, and swarms of 
herbs and flowers, sallied forth to take the air. Think of 
meeting a tall prickly cactus, in a narrow place ; or a banian 
tree, promenading with its innumerable progeny. You 
might lie down under a shady beech, and before you were 
aware of it, your canopy might travel out of sight. Besides, 
how would the animals get food, if they stood still? Would 
the vegetables come to be eaten ? And how would the 
plants get water, if the roots, with all their little sponges, 
were out of the ground. Oh, it would be very incon- 
venient for both parties. The trees had better stand still, 
and pump up their sap, to spread out into shady boughs ; 
and the animals had better run about, and play, and eat, 
and sleep, as they fancy. All is right, all is for the best, 
and exquisitely adapted ; there is nothing we can change ; 
we have only to learn how things are ! 



XII. 



My Dear Mary : 

There is one practice I require at the earliest age ; that 
of repeating after me. It prepares for speaking and reading 
elegantly, and for that accomplishment open to all, of re- 
peating poetry, in an expressive and interesting manner. 
All cannot charm with bright original thoughts, or sweet 
notes, but all may soothe and delight with the best crea- 
tions of others ; all may have a store of delicate thoughts, 
with which to while away the long watches of the night, or 
cheer the sick-room, the twilight hours, or seasons of an- 
guish, when no other solace is possible. I have heard, that in 
Europe, persons, who have no other gift or accomplishment, 



75 

cultivate this. It is not only an easy means of giving plea- 
sure, but of great influence in refining the % taste. I am very 
careful to avoid the ordinary, and present the lofty, beau- 
tiful, and suggestive ; believing that even in the apparently 
unsubstantial domain of taste effect follows cause unfailingly ; 
that, the greater variety of culture we bestow, the finer and 
more graceful will be the growth. These minor pre- 
ferences, which constitute taste, especially take the form of 
that which surrounds them. An immense moral feeling, 
a stricken conscience, or genius gathering up its inward 
might, will sometimes burst through the mould, but the 
power of the mould over points of taste and manners, is 
absolute ; every twig, every leaf, nay, every vein and 
downy spire, owes its form to it. I do not say that all 
persons, surrounded by the same books and company, will 
have equally nice literary taste ; but that the taste and 
acquirements of each person will be elegant or otherwise, 
according to surrounding influences. At one time much of 
the poetic power of England ran into conceits ; again it 
took a didactic and highly polished form. Its tendency 
varies in each age, proving that some general cause, foreign 
to organization, directs it. 

You know there are birds, who ever after repeat that 
sound of the human voice which they first heard ; and 
children have the same impressibility. Their pertinacity in 
their first blunders proves the fact, and gives us a hint to 
avail ourselves of it. Every infant should have the name 
of each thing sounded to it, in a clear and agreeable tone. 
It should be encouraged to repeat names and words, until 
it pronounces them as well as it can ; and should never be 
satisfied with merely making itself understood. Do not let a 
child be left to chance to pick up a language ; but fre- 
quently encourage it to practice upon short sentences, vary- 
ing the tone and expression. When three years old it will 
be able to repeat simple stories after you, a few words at a 
time, copying tone, accent, and pronunciation exactly. 
When it has repeated several, it is better to read aloud, and 
to read the same thing over and over, until both words and 
meaning are understood. Never pass on, and let it be sa- 
tisfied with half understanding. Let it hear as much good 



76 

reading as possible, and never any which is incorrect. Let 
it learn the delight of a book ; and make the ear and 
enunciation nice. Then comes a time when you are en- 
gaged, and you tell the child he must learn to read for 
himself. After this has happened several times, and you 
have told him that you wish to teach him to read, but it 
is more difficult than any thing he ever did, and you 
are not willing he should begin unless he will persevere, 
he will become too eager, to be deterred by slight diffi- 
culties. By one means or another he learns his letters. 
I do not believe any one of the numerous plans can be 
considered best for all. Some children have quick eyes 
and soon learn the characters ; others never blunder in the 
sound, but cannot attach it to the character: and some 
are very slow in perceiving either form or sound, but 
never forget it when it is once their own. The child 
must learn each letter thoroughly by his own efforts : 
you have only to aid him w ? herever he finds difficulty. 
This done, I would let him practice as much as he can 
without fatigue ; and would read the letters with him a 
great deal, and let him point. In short, I would do 
every thing to smooth this difficult passage. I should still 
read aloud a great deal, and let him repeat, that he may 
not, by the difficulty of spelling, be led to read badly. 
I should correct every fault the first time, and every time, 
and never consider any fault incorrigible. I should never 
let him read aloud when alone, for fear of fixing some pe- 
culiarity. 1 would urge the learning of poetry ; and the 
learning to spell a great many easy words. 

I am sure that every moment thus carefully devoted to 
the introduction of any branch, is so much time and per- 
plexity saved for the future. It is for this reason that I 
think a school for children under six years of age, should 
be small in number, and the teacher as well recompensed 
as for older pupils. The individual difficulties require 
separate treatment at first ; the numbers of a school may 
increase with the age of the pupils ; and if they are well 
trained in every period, at last the teacher is needed merely 
as a guide in the studies, and a support to the often uncer- 
tain perseverance of the young. 



77 

Not much need be said of reading, after the first steps, 
though it occupies more time, and requires more attention 
than any study. It is needless to enlarge upon its impor- 
tance, for all acknowledge it, though so few excel in the 
art. At first I let the children read simple tales and dia- 
logues ; afterward, history alternately with poetry. Reading 
consumes a great many of the school hours ; I therefore 
make it subservient to history. I relate anecdotes and 
customs, and make them compare one nation with another, 
and observe how customs grow out of climate, and are 
brought from one country to another, and are retained when 
their peculiar fitness has ceased. We have our map and 
our table of chronology before us, and refer to them fre- 
quently. When about six years old, the children learn short 
lessons in the history we have thus read over. They learn 
important names and dates, and give the meaning, but 
not the words of the author. I begin this exercise early, 
because young children give a story in their own words 
with great ease ; while those of eleven years, find it very 
difficult, unless they have previously practiced. Most 
children of six, when they understand what is required, will 
learn a chapter by reading it three times. If we have not 
read the history recently, I always give out the next 
lesson, as soon the last is recited. I notice any thing par- 
ticularly important or obscure, and perhaps tell anecdotes 
about it. The next day they learn, and the day after, 
recite it. I always hear the previous lesson a second 
time. I prefer this to a general review, because it fixes 
what they have learned, just as it is in danger of being for- 
gotten. Almost all my lessons are given out and explained 
one day, and studied the next, and recited the third, and 
then more or less thoroughly recited a second time. Will 
you remember this in the hasty accounts I shall be obliged 
to give you ? 



7* 



79 



XIII. 

My Dear Marf : 

Spelling faultlessly, and writing with ease, are the next 
requisites of a polite education ; a person, therefore, feels 
ashamed who is not skilled in these. Considered as to 
their effect on the mind, they have but a secondary value, 
the value of a discipline ; they do not add to knowledge 
or suggest thought. To spell perfectly, requires great 
practice and accurate habits. 1 have daily lessons in a 
spelling-book and in a common book. The latter teaches 
the participles and compound words, and a much greater 
variety than the spelling-book. The children also recite 
definitions ; I explain the words, and use them in sentences, 
before they are studied ; and the older ones look for words 
in a dictionary. Those who are able, write dictated les- 
sons, observing all the capitals, points, &ic. This exercise 
is a favorite one, and it is needed ; for many persons are 
puzzled in writing a word, who can spell it at another 
time. But little can be said about spelling, though the 
actual study occupies a great deal of time ; but all the time 
expended in study is gained in recitation. Sometimes I 
show by the watch, bow quickly a hundred words, well 
learned, may be spelled ; or a Latin verb or vocabulary 
lesson, or any lesson not requiring explanation, may be 
recited. That is a well-ordered school, in Which the actual 
recitation of the scholars takes but little time ; at the same 
time the frequent interruption of the recitations, by expla- 
nations and illustrations, is the best proof of the interest of 
the teacher. In all the lessons, I direct attention to the 
spelling of difficult words. I show their derivation and 
formation and signification ; also when they are the same, 
or slightly varied, in other languages. I have heard lately 
of a very interesting exercise for those who know several 
languages. It is to read from a large dictionary all that is 
known of the derivation of the words and of their different 
significations. When girls are to be thoroughly trained in 



79 

other languages, so much spelling of English words is not 
needed. But it is very well to acquire skill in this, and 
in writing, early, before it is known how much more in- 
teresting other studies are ; for these exercises are insup- 
portable to older girls, whose minds are advanced ; and 
are never so accurately learned as in childhood. 

A pencil is one of the first playthings a child fancies, 
and great use may be made of this taste, by one who has 
skill. If the child can get sufficient command of the pen- 
cil to print the letters as they are learned, it interests him, 
and facilitates his learning them. I would let him print as 
much and as long as he pleases ; it gives a distinct remem- 
brance of the letter, and prepares for a clear and legible hand. 
When he can print perfectly well, and begins to be tired of 
it, let him gradually change to a round joined hand, without 
losing the upright legible character. You must be very 
careful to prevent bad habits, and inculcate the good habit 
of making each copy better than the preceding. I find 
children need a great deal of encouragement in writing ; 
their eyes are very quick to detect their own faults, and 
they are often discouraged by the numerous difficulties. 
The blots, erasures, and spatters, excite more feeling than 
they deserve ; and I often have to say that I do not 
expect them to write well ; I only expect them to try ; if 
they could write well, they would not need to practice 
writing. This argument, that it is the difficult and un- 
known which is to be learned, I often use, particularly with 
new scholars. I ask them if they wish to pass their lives 
in going over and over the things they know, or if they 
wish to learn the things they do not know, and which are 
therefore difficult ? I interest them in their copies : write 
proverbs, short and pithy, on the black-board, and explain 
them ; or give corresponding proverbs in two or three lan- 
guages, to be copied : or I write the name and country and 
date of some celebrated man, and tell a little story about 
him. I let them copy the poetry they are to learn, and 
French words and phrases. I try in all ways to lighten 
the tediousness of the handwriting. I praise those who 
write well, and try to keep up the standard of writing in 
school. 



80 



XIV. 

My Dear Mary : 

I find a great difference among my pupils as to their fond- 
ness for arithmetic. The older girls are very averse to it. 
I think they cannot have outgrown it : for it never ceased 
to be a very attractive and satisfactory study to me ; I had 
so much satisfaction in entering into the laws of numbers, 
and working under and with them. But my girls do not 
feel this : they are pleased to cipher a little ; pleased to 
answer a few questions in mental arithmetic ; but if I fol- 
low it up, greater inattention and weariness are shown than 
in any other study. This is not the case with the little 
ones : not a recitation is made, but I am called upon to en- 
joy some new discovery in numbers. The older girls 
probably felt this pleasure when they first perceived the 
facts ; and if these had not remained isolated, but had been 
referred to other relations of numbers, and their depen- 
dence and agreement shown, the first pleasure would have 
become more deep and lasting. 

I can remember when such facts as that nine added to a 
number of two figures makes the unit figure one less than 
at first, gave me absolute pleasure, and often came into my 
thoughts out of school. There are many such facts not 
worth writing, but serviceable in quickening the percep- 
tions of children : such as that two even numbers added, 
always make an even one ; an even and an odd one 
make an odd one, and two odd ones make an even one, 
because the two odd units are added together and become 
even ; that if it is asked how many times 3 in 4 X 6, 
as 3 is half of 6 it must be taken twice as often, and the 
other factor must be doubled. I mention these examples 
to show you of what slight things I avail myself to interest 
them. 

I also state the uses of numbers in common life ; 
that by keeping accounts we are able to be honest : that 
we use numbers in building houses, railroads, in navigation, 



81 

astronomy, and in calculating all powers and forces. 
And I have thus become aware of my own ignorance of 
what we call numbers. How limited is the knowledge of 
them contained in books ! How many relations and forces 
exist among the worlds above of which we cannot con- 
ceive ! I have the strangest feeling when I try to embrace 
or fathom the whole of any subject. I have hold of one 
end, and the other stretches into infinity. It is wonderful 
that in the small portion we know, all should be so or- 
derly, so unfailing : we might expect unknown laws to 
come in and disturb the action of those we know. 

But if arithmetic is valuable as a training, it is more so 
as leading to the perception of order. 

Order is congenial to the mind, inspires confidence, gives 
repose. Therefore we should always present arithmetical 
facts as symmetrical proportions and harmonious relations of 
the great whole. We thus not only give intellectual gratifi- 
cation but intellectual training. The mind imitates what 
it admires, and lives according to its own analogous laws. 

Every time that a child perceives that any portion of 
the universe moves according to principles, submits to laws, 
he receives an impression more lively than we can create 
by our voluntary influence ; he is elevated ; he perceives 
the beauty and value of law, without reference to himself; 
while if we seek to acquaint him with the law in his own 
case, we may excite resistance and suspicion of our motives. 

Numbers and geometry, and even pure mathematics, 
seem scarcely in themselves to form a science. They are 
rather a consideration of certain phenomena in the other 
sciences, set apart from their results, and treated in the 
abstract. As thought is so much quicker than action, we 
reach results at a glance which it would be tedious to work 
out in matter ; and can pass on to truths which would be 
quite beyond us, were the understanding obliged to wait 
upon the senses. 

Numbers and proportions are the skeleton of Nature, 
and having once acknowledged their fitness we take little 
interest in repeating our operations ; but in Nature, whose 
rules these numbers represent, we are never weary of tracing 
their presence. We ask eagerly of each new chemical sub- 



82 

stance, its multiple ; will it also submit to the laws of defi- 
nite proportion. We pull the flower in pieces, to see if the 
number of the stamens is a multiple of the number of the 
petals, and the number of the petals a multiple of that of 
the sepals. We unwind the cone of the fir-tree, to trace 
the law of spirals, which brings round its scales each to its 
appointed place. Does a new orb become visible in the 
depths of space ? A hundred telescopes are pointed to 
verify upon it known laws, and study the new illustration 
of them which it affords. 

Doubtless, each relation and proportion of numbers has 
in Nature its fit working ; introduces variety, secures sym- 
metry and harmony of sound form and color. Science recog- 
nizes new instances of this every day. The fluid particles of 
the future crystal move over each other without settled form, 
until a new law enters ; then pole flies to pole ; beautiful, 
regular, lasting shapes ensue. Heat, light, gravitation, all the 
powers which radiate, teach us squares and cubes ; chemistry 
teaches progressions, astronomy still more intricate opera- 
tions. Could I bring to my teachings the countless manifes- 
tations of these, did I even know as much as I might have 
known, there would be no more weariness. But I was always 
satisfied, when by verifying a few instances, I reached the 
law. I then knocked away my scaffolding, and went in 
search of something else. Now that I wish to interest 
young persons, who do not yet love the law for its own 
sake, I feel a great want of beautiful natural expressions of 
the law. Some children cannot receive the law by itself; 
others receive it, and are too well contented with its bar- 
renness. I wish to show it to them all gorgeous and com- 
plete, so that if one manifestation finds a deaf ear, another 
may meet a willing one. The great charm of the natural 
sciences is in this two-fold feeling ; satisfaction in the law, 
and delight in its embodying. If we are ignorant of law, 
Nature remains a mere mass of facts, and restricted even in 
these: if we neglect the beautiful outward facts, law loses 
sublimity and interest. As long as man possesses both soul 
and senses, he must interpret Nature through both : he 
must keep the abstract present to his intellect, and the, 
concrete to his eye.. 



83 

Numbers are a portion of the law forcibly severed from 
the rest, and from their natural expressions ; and only one 
small corner of them is taught in school ; that which is 
useful in every day life. Consequently, instead of en- 
larging, this study is apt to narrow, the mind. The 
faculties being fixed so long on microscopic objects^ lose 
their original boundless vision : they are made acute, it is 
true, and find satisfaction in their little portion of the law ; 
but this is a trifle compared to their birthright. 

By giving so much time to numbers as is often done, we 
treat the child like a prisoner ; we make him con the nar- 
row walls of a cell, when the universe should be open to 
him. 

Let the captive, in the lonely Spielberg, obtain for the 
solace of his weary days, an hour-glass : with what interest 
he watches the swift descent of the sand, and notes on his 
prison floor the progress of the sun during each period ! 
What important inferences can he draw from the unfailing 
daily accomplishment of these two coinciding phenomena! 
It proves to him that the relations between the sun and 
earth are regulated by law, and that the descent of the 
smallest particle to earth is no less subject to a fixed law. 
Even from this small page of Nature, he learns the unfail- 
ing certainty of law, and the prompt obedience of matter. 

It is because Nature thus repeats her lessons, that some 
persons deem it unimportant what a child studies, and re- 
gard only the developement of his powers, and the train- 
ing and habits he receives. I cannot but consider that the 
nature of the subjects first presented, will materially in- 
fluence his developement ; and for this reason I think arith- 
metic, as it is usually taught, occupies too much time. By 
directing attention to the law, we obviate this objection. 
I like to present law, whether in morals, science, or num- 
bers, as Fate itself; descending like an armed man into the 
kingdom of matter, and working itself out in every jot and 
tittle. 

I announce a law of proportion, give an example, and 
state that it must always be so. I bid the children vary the 
numbers, the mere things, in any way they can devise, and 



84 

the law comes, swift, irresistible, and all must conform. I 
lead them very early to separate the proportions and rela- 
tions from the particular numbers, and to observe that the 
law lasts, though these are changed. I teach them a 
childish sort of algebra : let them imagine conditions for 
unknown numbers, and operate on them ; and then they 
substitute one set and another, and find the answer true for 
all. 

But I must hasten to the strictly practical part of my 
teaching. When the children can count, ascending and 
descending to any extent, I ask how we shall express these 
numbers. Shall we write as many marks as there are units, 
or shall we have a different character for each number? 
How long would it lake to count the strokes, or to learn a 
million of characters ? Could the mind grasp so many ? 

Then I say, " If they will be very attentive, I will teach 
them to express all numbers, by only ten characters, 
arranged in different ways. I let them practice with these 
until they can use them readily ; for in arithmetic particu- 
larly, one obstacle at a time is enough. 

After fixing in their minds that every right-hand figure 
is a unit, I say : '< Now I am going to have a column of 
tens standing on the left of my units : remember, none 
must come into this second row but tens, for they will all 
change into tens the moment they enter. " 

They now practice addition : at first very thoroughly in 
the head and then on the slate : they write and recite ad- 
dition tables, counting them each time. 

Then I give sums to add which exceed two figures in the 
answer, and ask how we shall write the answer. Some can 
guess that I shall have a row of hundreds. 

I detain them on numeration a long while ; I give a 
great part of the time devoted to arithmetic, to obtain the 
power of conceiving numbers. If the understanding is 
weak, so much the more need of strengthening it ; so much 
the more danger f confusing it, by offering irregular 
numbers and complicated relations. Now in these tens 
and hundreds all is regular : they rise, by the most simple 
gradation, to the greatest numbers used ; the stepping 



85 



stones are skilfully arranged, and the mind that can reach 
one, is prepared for the next. 

I would give much more time, at first, to secure force and 
precision of mental grasp, than is usually done. By suitable 
training, any person might extract the cube root mentally, 
like Newton, or keep in his memory the first six powers of 
all numbers from ten to one hundred, like the blind Euler. 
Captives who have thus kept alive their faculties, show us 
what may be done even late in life. Far more may be at- 
tained when numbers are first presented to the mind ; and 
though few would use their powers for such purposes as 
Newton and Euler, they would have a clearer conception of 
distance, space, and all which is the subject of calculation. 
How few persons can conceive distinctly the extent of a 
number of more than twelve figures ; and how much do 
many scientific facts lose in sublimity, by this incapacity to 
grasp them ! 

It is not merely to improve the power of conception, that 
I would keep the child so long in numeration. Let him 
stretch his conceptive faculty a few hundreds, still the series 
reaches into infinity ; and there is no use in his conceiving 
more than in some science or other he can apply to reality! 
I should hope also to make his idea of the first hundreds 
and thousands more distinct. He should have an ideal ar- 
rangement clear and ready for use ; and all numbers should 
be as familiar to him as the letters of the alphabet. He 
should write them over and over, every way, skipping, and 
from dictation, always beginning at the right hand. Mean- 
while he should do sums in addition on the slate ; and dif- 
fi It or % for he would be as familiar with large, as with 
small numbers. 

I would have subtraction practiced in the same manner • 
going over the same process with a great many different 
numbers. Thus 30 less is how many ? 30 less 1 is how 
many? up to 30 less 30. I never omit in any of the 
processes : because children should be able to distinguish be- 
tween a number taken times, and one with added to it. 
The slow recitation of the subtraction table obliges 
them to keep in their heads two series, an ascending and a 
descending one, beside a constant number ; and thus in- 
8 



86 

creases the power of retaining and comparing numbers. At 
first I ask questions, and each operation is performed slowly, 
and often on the fingers : but after understanding and prac- 
ticing them on their slates, they answer with great ease and 
quickness. 

When they are well practiced in subtraction, I set down a 
very large sum of the same numbers to be added : they think 
it very tedious, and I agree, and offer to show them a shorter 
way. I tell them they can do each sum more quickly by 
carrying part of it, already done, in their heads. I ask 
them if it would be convenient to gather and grind our corn 
every time we want bread ; or to shear our sheep, and spin 
and weave the wool, every time we want a frock. I tell them 
the person can do most in any emergency, and can always 
exert his powers to the greatest advantage, who has made 
the best preparation, physically and intellectually : and if 
they keep their minds amply furnished and in good work- 
ing order, they can do all which is demanded. Thus 
if they can multiply all the units as quickly as they can 
conceive of them, they can multiply the largest sum. 
Then I begin with 2 taken times, 2 taken once, &c, and 
go on slowly, making them observe the principle in each 
instance. I never hurry them in multiplication. If a 
child could not perceive the working of the rule beyond the 
first few lines, I would keep him in these a year. 

Division comes next ; far the most difficult of the first 
processes, and best explained as analyzing a past process 
of multiplication ; as finding out how often a small number 
was taken to make a larger one. It requires very great 
practice, particularly when fractions are not taught early. 

I often ask the different factors of numbers : this helps 
to multiply and divide large sums. I draw squares on the 
board, and show that 12 of them may be arranged, 4 in a 
line, in 3 lines, or 6 in a line, in 2 lines. I suppose a man 
buying a cake of 48 lbs. ; and then for convenience pre- 
ferring 2 cakes of 24 lbs. ; then I ask if he could take the 
same quantity in still smaller cakes, and what their weight 
would be. 

Then I go over fractions as thoroughly as I have gone 
over whole numbers. Colburn's is an excellent book for 



87 

these, but the transitions from easy to difficult questions 
are often abrupt, and the teacher must supply exercises. 
The children do not leave fractions until they can conceive 
of a number as whole at one moment, and at the next, divided 
into fractions of any size, and can use these fractions as 
readily and understandingly as whole numbers. 

I should not hurry a girl to learn more than these ele- 
mentary rules applied to whole numbers and fractions, until 
she was twelve years old. Then she could use figures as 
easily as letters, and two more years would carry her through 
Colburn's Sequel and into algebra. I like to teach algebra. 
It is really a peep into the secrets, an opportunity of moving 
the machine ourselves to free ourselves from the cumbrous 
processes of arithmetic, and deal only with the laws. 

My dear Mary, do not read this letter aloud, or your 
auditor will be disposed to make a hasty escape from the 
Law. I was not aware the word recurred so frequently. 
I express by it the relations and order existing in any series 
of events, — relations caused by the nature of the agents 
and objects ; not the execution of absolute and external 
controlling power, the meaning which human law often bears. 



XV. 

My Dear Mary : 

I have given so much time to arithmetic, that I must 
touch slightly on geometry. I do not tench it as a science 
very early. At first we need only give names, and help 
children to arrange what Nature teaches. She makes 
them geometricians by direct perception, for the sake of 
self-preservation, and of being in connexion with the ex- 
ternal world. They need no alphabet, no characters, to 
understand geometry. 

Geometry includes knowledge of extension and form, and 
the properties of forms. Size and form are perceived by the 



senses ; their properties are partly perceived by the sen- 
ses, partly judged by the understanding. Of all mental 
processes this begins earliest, and depends least on the 
will. Its correctness in infants, depends on the acute- 
ness of the senses ; in older persons, partly on the nice de- 
cision of the understanding. Present two oranges, differ- 
ing in size, to an infant ; it will almost certainly seize the 
larger. There seems no selfish emotion in the case ; the 
two impress themselves on his brain as of unequal worth, 
and he stretches forth his hand for the larger. Let us suppose 
a child whose senses are rather dull, and let him receive 
the best training : let him discriminate his impressions, and 
interpret rightly all he learns through his senses. Mean- 
while let a child of quick eye neglect to analyze and reflect 
on his impressions ; and at the age of twenty, place before 
the two, complicated forms, or an irregular bit of ground, 
and the one who had originally least perception of size, will 
estimate them most truly. So much may mental training 
supply organic deficiencies. 

But they are intended to assist, not to supply the place 
of each other. The mind should be alive to judge all which 
the senses reveal : and the senses should go forth, not 
blindly, but with a purpose to bring home what is wanting to 
complete the judgment. 

How long an infant will contemplate a chair, or turn over 
a plaything ! It cannot satisfy itself with gazing. Soon 
past impressions begin to correct the present ones. At 
first it stretches out its hand for a candle across a room : 
soon it recollects that it cannot reach the candle without 
crossing the room, and throws itself forward in the effort to 
get there. During the first years the impressions of the 
senses are continually corrected by the judgment, and at 
last this is done so quickly that it is imperceptible. There 
is now danger of passing too rapidly from the first impres- 
sion, and losing it. All children have the true picture ; as 
they prove by their frequent questions about some object 
as large as others in the landscape, but which, from its 
want of interest, we do not notice ; and also by the dif- 
ficulty with which they catch some object, not very promi- 
nent in appearance, but to us most interesting, from our 



89 

previous knowledge of it. Among grown persons, none 
but artists retain the true picture ; and to call up at will the 
mental or visual perception, requires a mind of great power, 
and a fine organization. 

We can do much very early to aid the perception, and 
something to form the judgment. When children are about 
five years of age, I make them acquainted with lines and 
forms, and their simple properties, in order. I have colored 
diagrams hung against the wall, to occupy the leisure mo- 
ments. They draw straight lines on the board in every direc- 
tion, and describe them. They try to enclose a space in two 
straight lines, and find out why they cannot. They enclose 
a space in three straight lines, and then in four, and so on, and 
learn the name of each figure. Then I ask them if they 
can enclose a space by one line of any sort ; and show 
them that they can, by one which constantly changes its 
direction, because it will turn and meet itself, making an 
irregular curve, or a circle. 

When lines are well understood I introduce angles, as the 
space included where straight lines cross ; and show the 
properties of the right-angle, and of triangles. 1 illustrate 
fractions by showing the angles formed by the crossing of 
two straight lines, or of twenty straight lines in the same- 
spot, to be always equal in amount ; because the space 
remains the same, w T hether divided into two or twenty parts, 

I give them solid blocks, and fix early the name of each 
figure, cone, pyramid, cube ; it saves many blunders. 

I will spare you more instances, though I multiply them 
exceedingly in my teaching. All the aid which can be 
given in numbers is by securing practice, and by presenting 
them in numerous relations, so as to illustrate a question. 
Occasionally light is thus let in on the benighted listener, 
but usually the child clears himself by a way of his own ; 
and every time he does, his faith and interest in numbers 
is increased. Each person forms, very early, some mode of 
calculating ; fixes some favorite relations and facts in his 
memory, and from these deduces all the rest. 

It is very desirable he should early learn to depend on 
his own nuclei and ways, even if they are not the quickest : 
I do not wish to confine him to my particular modes. For 



90 

this reason, as soon as his figures are legible to himself, he 
does his sums alone. At first, I explain each question and 
state it, but soon, I will not tell him whether he is to add or 
divide ; I throw him entirely on himself. 

The comprehending and stating of a sum is the most 
difficult step to induce. When children get into the right 
path they are delighted, their faces light up, I am called to 
share their satisfaction. They say they should like arith- 
metic, if it were all like this. I tell them it is all so, if they 
will find will it out ; " a mighty maze, but not without a plan." 



XVI. 

My Dear Mary: 

When I begin geography as a study, I tell the children 
they will have to commit to memory some entirely new 
facts, but I will give them as little as possible to learn 
in this manner, if they will remember all I tell them. 
It is very desirable that the first impression of the earth's 
surface should be given by a globe, the largest that can 
be procured. I do not use maps until the great features 
of the earth's surface are well known. When the earth's 
diameter, circumference and surface are learned, I show 
by the globe the daily motion from west to east. The 
particles most distant from the central axis of the globe 
describe the largest circles, and move very rapidly ; with 
the nearness to the axis the motion becomes less ; and 
on the surface of the globe also, as the circles become 
smaller and approach the axis, the motion diminishes. 
So that an atom at the equator travels twenty-five thousand 
miles a day, or a thousand miles an hour, while an atom 
at the poles has no rotatory motion. This I illustrate by 
letting four girls join hands, and chalking on the floor a cir- 
cle for the outer one. She travels farther and faster than 



91 

the others ; the inner one merely turns round, and a line 
may be imagined drawn from her head to her feet, which 
need not even turn round. This imaginary line, always 
pointing in the same direction, and passing through the 
centre of the earth, we call its axis. The pole before us, 
when the rising sun is on our right, is called the north 
pole, the opposite end the south pole. They are the 
only parts which always point in the same direction, 
and serve to judge all other directions. Then I explain 
east and west as directions, while on our globe north and 
south are points. This removes many difficulties of lati- 
tude and longitude. I show the equator, and lines of lati- 
tude, as drawn with reference to the earth's axis, and as 
helping us to fix the position and extent of countries ; this 
leads to much conversation about climate, productions, and 
customs. Longitude furnishes many interesting questions 
about the time of day at different places, which children 
understand very readily. They are never tired of tracing 
the changes ; of seeing a place come up under the morn- 
ing rays of the sun, pass through noon and evening, and 
disappear ; of finding all the places at which it is noon at 
once ; and of fancying what is being done at different 
places. They also trace lines of latitude and longitude 
round the globe, mentioning all the places they pass through, 
and commit them to memory. 

Then we observe the surface of the globe, its irregular 
continents, its clusters of islands, the great proportion of 
water. We observe how much more is known of the 
northern hemisphere, and how much more has taken place 
there than in the southern hemisphere. 

I describe each variety of land and water, and show in- 
stances of each. They are then studied in the geogra- 
phy, and examples sought on the globe. When each girl 
can approach the globe, and mention the capes, rivers, 
mountains, &ic, as fast as she can see them, I turn to Asia, 
the most anciently-peopled country. 

While they look at it, I give a slight sketch of its history, 
its inhabitants, its natural features. It has always been 
very thickly peopled, but by nations too luxurious to devel- 
ope fine character, and injured by the extreme fertility of 



92 

their soil, and their gold and precious stones. Still these 
nations believe themselves the wisest in the world, and 
have among them proofs that civilized and learned people 
must have dwelt in Asia, before Europe had emerged from 
barbarism. I describe its lofty mountains standing on 
elevated plains in the centre, covered with eternal snow, 
and the large rivers pouring off from them on the east and 
north ; the Yenissei and Obi, fed by the continual ice of 
the mountains, flowing from a great height, with a rapid 
and steady current to the Frozen Ocean ; and the Indus and 
Ganges, rising not far from the southern edge of the same 
extensive plateau, and under the influence of tropical rains, 
overflowing their banks, bringing fertility to the parched 
earth, preparing the rice harvest, and gliding through very 
different scenes to the equatorial regions. I mention the 
rapid growth of vegetation in the south ; the bamboo 
bristling with spines, rising sixty feet in one season, and the 
huge vines and thorny creepers binding the forests in one 
impenetrable mass ; and the abundance of spices and fra- 
grant trees in the islands, sufficient to supply the world 
ever since the days of Solomon ; and the volcanoes so nu- 
merous in these islands, that fearful eruptions are scarcely 
noticed by the natives. 

The boundaries are learned, and the next day I require 
all I have told them, to be repeated. 

Afterward they study each country in succession ; learn 
its boundaries, chief natural features, cities and inhabitants. 
When I give out the lesson, 1 remark on the size of the 
rivers, their rise and course, their use in fertilizing the coun- 
try, and conveying its products — we observe the direction 
of the mountains, and their probable effect on the climate. 
I mention the productions and general appearance of the 
country. Many questions are asked about each nation, 
and I put as much life into my answers as possible. I 
mention a few of the most prominent traits, and those most 
unlike ours. I CDntrast the character of Oriental with 
Western civilization. For instance, if Japan is the country 
we are studying, I do not say merely that it consists of three 
large islands east of Asia, rich in spices, and with civilized 
inhabitants ; but I tell them it is crowded with people who 



93 

differ almost totally from us. Instead of sending out ships 
to exchange goods with all the nations of the earth, and 
publishing papers that all the people may know every new 
way of doing tilings, the Japanese only let into their coun- 
try two Dutch ships once a year : they keep guns to shoot 
all other persons as enemies. And they have a law 
that whoever introduces an improvement in ship-building 
shall receive thirty blows of the bamboo. Thus every 
thing goes on as it has done for thousands of years. 

The Mikado sits a number of hours every day on his 
throne, immovable, lest by turning his head he bring down 
part of the empire: when he has sat the requisite number 
of hours, he puts his crown on the throne as a substitute. 

Their first sign of mourning is to turn all the screens 
and sliding-doors topsy-turvy, and all their garments inside 
out ; probably to show that all things appear changed to 
the afflicted. 

Their use of fans is very amusing : soldiers, priests, every 
human being over five years of age, has one on his head, 
or in his girdle ; visiters receive dainties on them ; the 
schoolmaster punishes with them : the beggar receives his 
alms on them. 

They are so fond of gilding, that the bills, legs, and claws 
of birds, served up at table, are elegantly gilt. 

I contrast the history of their country for the last cen- 
tury with ours, and consider the prospects of each for the 
next century. Such accounts are associated with the name 
and position of a country, and inspire a desire to hear more. 
Sometimes a country is interesting from its great men, or 
from events ; sometimes from natural curiosities ; but there 
is always something which may be seized. It is well also 
to give an early knowledge of the comparative antiquity 
of nations : and of their importance as depending on char- 
acter, and not on the size of their country. 

I give these lessons orally, because I do not know a 
geography sufficiently simple and graphic for little children. 
When they are older, they take a text-book for the dry 
facts, and I do all I can to connect them with history, and 
make them interesting. They note very carefully the 
relative size of countries, their inland or maritime position, 



94 

the size of the larger rivers, and the height of the more im- 
portant mountains. I have the size of the different con- 
tinents, islands and seas, reduced to circles painted of dif- 
ferent colors, and the number of square miles attached to 
each. These hang against the wall, and as they are ar- 
ranged from the largest to the smallest, they catch the eye, 
and are easily learned. 

They find the direction of one place from another. They 
learn the compass, and are very accurate in determining 
the intermediate points. It takes from one to two years 
to go over the globe in this manner : I insist on its being 
done thoroughly, or I give no sketches. 



XVII. 

My Dear Mary : 

If you are not over weary of the earth, I must detain 
you upon it a little longer. 1 must give an idea of its 
position in space, and of its relative proportions and con- 
nexions with other bodies ; and to my practiced numeralists, 
these numbers, however vast, are not mere figures. I tell 
them what first made men suspect that the earth was not a 
flat surface. When a ship leaves the shore the people on 
board lose sight first of the ground, then of the houses, 
steeples and hills ; and when vessels meet on the ocean, 
they see first each others' masts, and then the decks and 
hulls. On a flat surface, the whole ship would be seen at 
once ; therefore, wherever this gradual appearance takes 
place, the earth must fall off from a flat surface. Now it 
is found to take place in every direction precisely in the 
same manner ; therefore the earth has no flat surface, 
therefore it must be nearly a sphere. This form is con- 
firmed by the round shadow on the moon in an eclipse, and 



95 

by the spheroidal forms of the other planets. They ask 
if mountains do not interrupt this perfect form, and I tell 
them that the highest mountains are in proportion to the 
whole earth, but as large as a grain of sand to a large-sized 
globe ; and that three fourths of the outline are formed by 
water. Then 1 explain gravity as the power which retains 
every thing at the earth's surface and in its place ; and illus- 
trate the attracting power of the earth by that of a large 
magnetized ball rolled in iron filings. I do not hurry this, 
but give countless instances of its various manifestations : 
and do not leave it until they have a perfect conception of 
this vast globe studded with people, with their feet toward 
the centre. 

Then on my black-board I draw a segment of a very 
large circle, and beneath it a straight line. A few inches 
of the lines cut off, appear parallel ; but in a yard the dif- 
ference is perceptible. I place a figure on each, and repre- 
sent each as capable of seeing but a few inches, and ask if 
their world would not appear the same to both ? 

I tell them the space we see is smaller compared to the 
whole earth than those few inches to that whole circle ; 
that the surface of our globe varies from a flat surface, by 
eight inches only in a mile, a quantity not perceptible. 

I explain the two motions of the earth ; I show that a 
blow through the centre of gravity sends the object for- 
ward without any rotation on its axis ; but a blow not 
through the centre of gravity will send it forward, and make 
it rotate also. An ivory ball or a top shows these two mo- 
tions independent of each other ; in a top the rotatory mo- 
tion often outlasts the other. By taking a top while spin- 
ning in the hand, and moving it round in a circle, you can 
show the separate motions : and you can then explain the 
difference between the place of the orbit and the place of 
the rotation. I show the north pole pointed steadily in 
the same direction, and consequently inclined sometimes 
toward the sun, sometimes away from it. Perhaps the 
motion first imparted to the earth inclined its axis, and thus 
caused the different length of the days and the varying 
seasons, allowing to one half the globe repose, and waking 
the other to renewed life. By it, light and heat are more 
uniformly distributed ; the polar regions gain a brilliant day 



96 

and a rapid summer ; and the torrid zone is saved from 
drought and barrenness. The questions and experiments 
arising from this simple cause are very interesting, and 
occupy us a long time. 

Then I explain the earth's orbit ; and the two forces 
which regulate the motion of one body round another. 
These may be graphically portrayed on a black-board, by 
one line tending forward continually, and another continually 
trying to fall into the centre, and the object influenced by 
both revolving between them nearly in a circle. I have 
shown it thus, and found it instantly understood. 

If you knew how slowly I advance in these lessons, turn- 
ing aside for every thing important ; and how often they 
are wholly or partially repeated, you would suppose I 
needed a superhuman endowment of patience ; but, as I 
have often said, all depends on the banner we fight under. 
I could bear much for fair Science. 

On my pupils' part I demand close attention ; they must 
not only hear with pleased wonder, but grasp the truth, 
reflect on it, and apply it. If they make no effort, the 
finest glimpses into creation will not strengthen their powers 
so much as a column of spelling over which they make 
effort. I give them many facts arising from the subject, to 
be learned accurately, and I believe these far better for 
their minds than lessons written only to be studied. Exer- 
tion I insist on as a duty ; talents are intrusted to them, 
and they are responsible for the use of them. 

I urge this particularly, because the danger of oral in- 
struction is, that the sinews of the pupil's mind may suffer. 
Yet I cannot but think that its certain and manifold advan- 
tages far outweigh its possible evils. Even the particles 
of matter by proximity induce changes in each other. 
Nitric acid has no effect on platina, but an alloy of silver 
and platina dissolves in it with great ease. By a small 
quantity of yeast the whole loaf is made light. In the 
spiritual world the influences, whose operation escapes 
analysis, are yet more numerous ; much is quickened and 
developed by a process too subtle for our perceptions. 
The difference between the living teacher and the dead 
book, cannot be set forth on paper ; it must be felt to be 
appreciated. 



97 

Oral instruction has another advantage ; it supplies a 
chasm which few writers have yet stepped forth to fill. 
We have excellent books for teachers, but few or none 
which bring important subjects clearly before young minds. 
I know not whether the difficulty of the task, or the fear 
of being tedious, has deterred authors from supplying this 
want, and perhaps more books of the sort exist than I am 
aware of. To supply the want himself, brings too much 
labor on the teacher ; more than he can perform faithfully, 
if he has other claims. 



XVIII. 

My Dear Mary : 

On looking over my last, I resolved to give you no more 
instances of my teachings. I cannot do them justice in so 
small a space. I cannot be general without being super- 
ficial, as none but a great artist can give a likeness by a 
few strokes. I was so afraid I should be carried beyond 
the solar system into the regions of infinite space, that I 
put a strong constraint on myself, and gave a most mea- 
gre account of a favorite study. It is in behalf of ano- 
ther favorite study, that I now waive my resolution, and 
offer you a few geological considerations, which I present 
to my pupils early, because from the vastness and change- 
ableness of the subject matter, they so eminently set forth 
the supremacy and durability of the law. 

When my earth is poised in mid-air, I display a drawing 
of a segment of it, looking very opaque, with a semi-trans- 
parent water enfolding it, and around in its true proportion 
the thin air slightly colored, so as to mark the limit of the 
terrestrial world. I tell the children that probably no atoms 
have escaped beyond it, or been added to it, since it was 
9 



98 

first hung in the sky ; and that nearly the same proportion 
of atoms is in a solid, in a fluid, and in an aeriform state. 
But we suppose the particles to be differently arranged ; that 
there are continents where there were once seas, and that 
the ocean flows over sunken lands. They cannot bear to 
have the solid earth taken from under them, and are quite 
relieved when they find so many ages necessary to change 
its surface. I tell them we know nothing about its state 
at first, but we suppose it to have been a fluid mass, which, 
as we see daily from drops of water, would take the form 
of a sphere, and its revolving motion would make it bulge 
where the motion was greatest. I instruct them about the 
atmosphere, and its wonderful adaptation to our wants ; 
that its volume and nature never change materially, though 
millions of men and animals use it. 

Neither perhaps has the relative proportion of land 
and water altered ; but they have changed places, and 
altered the surface without disturbing the form of our :dobe. 
By observing its present appearance, its hills, valleys, con- 
tinents, fossil plants and animals, we can decipher much of 
its history, and often ascertain the time and order of events. 
I ask the children what their conclusions would be if they 
found burnt ruins, or skeletons of dead Indians, seated in 
their graves, or marble columns and carvings at the bottom 
of a clear lake. And if the Indians had near them skele- 
tons, trophies of their prowess in the chase, different from 
the bones of any living animal, would they not conclude 
there had been animals unlike ours? 

In the depths of the earth are remains of shells and 
plants which received their form, not from fire or water, 
but from the principle of life. They could not have breathed 
and lived there; consequently the position of the rocks in 
which they are imbedded must have changed. Those who 
have studied the structure of animals and plants, can from 
a fragment decide the family and general habits of the in- 
dividual, and can tell what climate it would require. Once 
in Virginia, certain claws were found very large and much 
hooked : they were supposed to belong to a carnivorous ani- 
mal, perhaps to an enormous lion. They were sent to Paris, 
and the scientific men there observed immediately , that where 



99 

carnivorous animals have a little bone under the last joint of 
the paw, this had none : but it had a small bone on the 
upper side. They knew therefore that it belonged to quite 
a different race of animals, the sloth ; who use their claws 
only to hang upon boughs till they have stripped them, 
and who roll the claw under the feet in walking. To 
draw out the claw, a muscle passes from the inner end, 
)ver the bone, to the next joint, and ends in a little bone. 
The cat and lion, on the contrary, draw up their claws by 
a muscle on the top of the bone, and dart them out by a 
muscle under it, which also ends in a little bone. This ap- 
parently slight difference decided whether the animal had 
been one of the fiercest or most sluggish creatures in exis- 
tence. 

But we are not obliged to judge from fragments only. 
The impressions of plants and shells on stone are per- 
fectly distinct : every fibre of the leaf is visible, and whole 
skeletons, and sometimes whole animals are found well 
preserved. Small specimens of these fossils are easily pro- 
cured, and give children a better knowledge of them than 
any description. 

I proceed to tell them that they are found in layers, often 
many hundred feet thick, piled one upon the other in the 
earth's crust, and each containing its peculiar animals and 
plants, for the growth of which a long period was requisite : 
so that we may regard each as a volume of history, going 
back to ages where imagination can scarcely follow. 

Each of these strata was once the upper one, and en- 
joyed water and light. Jn the water the aquatic animals 
lived, and left their shells on the loose sand at the bottom 
when they died. The sea-plants, the delicate lilies, are 
upright, as if slowly imbedded ; the shells lie whole and 
level, as if at the bottom of a tranquil ocean ; trees are stand- 
ing, or gently inclined, as if the earth had been gradually 
deposited around them, as the sand is heaped round the 
monuments of Egypt, All speaks of a slow quiet process, 
occupying a vast duration of time. 

In the upper strata the plants and animals are such as 
could live in the present climate, and in some instances are 
the spe as existing species \ as we descend, they becomo 



100 

more and more unlike ours. In England, species like the 
present are gradually replaced by coral reefs, and the tree- 
ferns and palms of tropical climates. 

This leads to a discussion on climates, and to an inquiry 
whether plants can be induced to grow in climates very 
unlike their native ones. I remark how limited our power 
is in this respect, that by our utmost cherishing we can only 
coax a few of them a little further north than they grew 
originally ; the vine and the olive have never spread fur- 
ther north since the time of Tacitus. 

I state the causes which influence climate, beside lati- 
tude. Some of them have observed the difference in 
warmth between the north and south side of a hill ; 
between a place like Nahant and an inland village. Thus 
they understand easily that the elevation of continents, 
the neigborhood of ice, of burning deserts, of moun- 
tains, and the presence of currents and of winds, modify 
the climate. 

I take each cause separately, and let the children imag- 
ine different circumstances, and infer the consequences. 
I tell them that Europe is warmer than North America, 
because the ocean flows in more freely to the north of it ; 
and thus the heat of the tropics is carried up by it, and inter- 
posed between that and the pole. But in the northern part 
of America rises land three thousand feet high ; it reaches the 
colder regions of the atmosphere, and becomes a vast reser- 
voir of ice and snow. Then I describe Africa like an immense 
furnace sending out its heat to Europe and Asia : the ver- 
tical sun beats down on its white sands, seldom moistened, 
or sheltered by any verdure. 

I ask what would be the climate of Europe if the south- 
ern part were to sink into the sea, and an equal extent of 
land to rise on the north ? What would be the effect on 
the United States, were we to fill the Gulf of Mexico and 
ihe Caribbean Sea with high mountain land, radiating and 
reflecting the vertical rays of the sun, and let in the ocean 
freely over Labrador and the British Possessions. They 
are much amused by the idea that without our moving 
winter may fly from us, and pomegranates, palms and citrons, 
supplant our forests. They trace all the effects within their 



101 

capacity, and thus exercise at once, their conceptive faculty 
and their understanding. 

Children are never tired of such fancies ; and it is a 
provision of Nature, which we should use to fix the law 
in their minds, that they will repeat a lesson or an experi- 
ment over and over again, if we only vary the statement 
a little. It is agreeable to their feeble persistence to have 
nine parts known, and only one to be sought. 

I have known a system of teaching French founded on 
this trait. The teacher taught orally, " Have you a hat ? " 
and then, " Have you a sword ? " and then, " Seek you a 
hat ? " and " Seek you a sword ? " and so on ; never in- 
troducing more than one word at a time, in teaching many 
thousand. 

Afterward we speak of the climate and vegetation of places 
at different elevations and in different latitudes ; of island cli- 
mates, which the sea equalizes by its waves and its breezes ; 
of climates like ours made excessively cold in winter by 
the ice north of us, and excessively hot in summer, by the 
sun in a sky free from mists. So that New York has the 
summer of Rome and the winter of Copenhagen, and Que^ 
bee, the summer of Paris and the winter of Petersburg. 
We mention the advantages of each variety of climate, the 
varied scenery and enjoyments of the excessive climates, 
the sudden bursting forth of spring, the flowers under 
the snow, the brilliant colors of the autumnal forests, 
the spirit and vigor imparted to the inhabitants by the 
piercing winds, and also the increased trouble of suiting 
dress and houses to such extremes, and the peaked roofs, 
to carry off the snow, instead of the graceful models of the 
South of Europe. 

In the island climate, we notice the ever-springing ver- 
dure, the health not undermined by sudden changes, the 
freedom of a more out-of-door life. 

We mention the different plants of each climate ; that 
those which need intense heat and ripen rapidly, thrive in 
excessive climates, while those which require less heat and 
grow slowly, prefer insular climates. 

Iceland is an instance of the great variations caused by 
minor and merely local causes. Every four or five years, 
9* 



102 

a large number of icebergs floating from Greenland, are 
stranded on the west coast of Iceland. Then the inhabi- 
tants know that their crops will fail in consequence of the 
fogs which are generated ; and the dearth of food is not 
confined to the land, for the temperature of the water is 
so changed, that fish forsake the shore. Sometimes we 
set these icebergs afloat in a different direction, cooling 
the water for forty or fifty miles round, and sending us 
their chilling breezes when they float by our bay. 

Then we take currents, and use the same liberties with 
them. We begin with the Gulf Stream, bearing the 
warm waters of the Gulf northeast, more than four thou- 
sand miles, to the western shore of Europe : making it 
perceptibly warmer than the opposite coast of America, 
and retaining warmth enough to cut off the glaciers of 
Spitzbergen at its beach. While the opposite glaciers of 
Greenland, having no such genial current, stretch out from 
shore, and furnish repeated crops of icebergs. 



XIX. 

My Dear Mary: 

Having pointed out how local peculiarities affect particular 
climates, I show that the different position of whole con- 
tinents influences the general climate, and may have made 
it hotter or colder than now, at different epochs. I ask 
them to show me, on the globe, what position of land would 
make the universal climate coldest, what would make it 
hottest. We imagine all the land dotted over the ocean 
in little islands, and the slight communication the inhabitants 
would then have, and their consequent want of civilization : 
or we imagine it collected into two compact masses, one in 
the frozen, and one in the torrid zone ; and represent the 
unbounded astonishment of the natives at first learning each 
other's customs. 



103 

They have now learned to consider the globe as a col- 
lection of atoms, subject to incessant change ; these atoms 
are worn, rent, impelled, by resistless agents ; they know 
no rest. Attraction, chemical affinity, heat, electricity, 
summon them hither and thither, to perform their parts in 
the great whole. The agents which have changed the 
surface most extensively, are volcanoes and the wearing of 
water. Showers soften it, streams penetrate every where 
and bear off all they can loosen. Rock, mud, vegetable 
and animal remains, are borne to the bed of the ocean, to 
form the mass of future continents. Innumerable mollusca 
add their hard shells ; coral and other zoophytes, stiffen 
and form reefs hundreds of miles long. 

This goes on for centuries, until around the continents 
the ocean becomes shallow ; and in many places studded 
with islands formed from coral reefs and old submarine 
volcanoes. 

Then the subterranean heat, which has had an issue in 
old volcanoes, receives a new direction ; or water, straying 
in the recesses of the earth, meets some inflammable sub- 
stance, and heat is generated, as in the slaking of lime ; gases 
are formed of prodigious power, and force themselves up- 
ward, and sideways, raising and often convulsing the crust. 
Sometimes the bed of the sea, for hundreds of miles, is raised ; 
and the chains of coral islands become the nuclei of moun- 
tain ranges. The uplifting of the ground in Sweden, is a 
present instance of the slow action of volcanic power. 

The coral reefs and islands furnish many interesting les- 
sons. I show prints of lagoon islands, studding the vol- 
canic regions of the sea, more thickly than the Austra- 
lian islands. I describe the zoophytes, so singularly fitted 
to fill up the ocean : beginning their labors wherever vol- 
canoes have raised their craters nearly to the surface of 
the waters, or former continents have sunk beneath it. In 
their rough branching surfaces, shells, and then sand, lodge. 
They now rise above the water in a circular form, with 
the steep banks of the submerged mountain on their outer 
side. On their inner side a lagoon of tranquil water is 
formed ; life is active in these warm regions ; plants, birds, 



104 

and small animals appear, and at last the abode is prepared 
for man. 

Volcanoes are a fertile subject. The power of steam 
illustrates their external phenomena, eruptions, he. 

The effect of heat in fusing and promoting chemical 
union, is shown by glass. This stream of subterranean heat, 
more intense than any we can produce, passes upward, 
fusing and changing all it approaches. Dark limestone, full 
of shells and coral, becomes white statuary marble, some- 
times for the distance of a quarter of a mile. 

The breaking forth of volcanoes, the showers of fire and 
stones, the flowing of the lava, and all the circumstances 
attending eruptions, take great hold of children's imagina- 
tions. They rejoice that we have no volcanoes. Then I 
state how regular the volcanic action is ; that along great 
tracts of land there are volcanoes, hot and mineral springs, 
and gaseous vapors. I describe the Andes agitated from 
Terra del Fuego to Mexico ; their lofty peaks pouring 
forth flames ; and often twenty or more of these flaming 
peaks within a short distance of each other. Not a year 
passes without earthquakes ; and large tracts of land are 
often raised twenty feet. At last we come to regard the 
present outlines of land and water as transient; lasting 
enough for us, but transient compared to the whole exis- 
tence of the globe. It has been happily said, that the out- 
lines of land and water, are only as important, as the crater 
of Vesuvius between two eruptions. 

The description of the present surface is geography. 



105 



XX. 



My Dear Mary : 

Success in teaching grammar depends particularly on the 
genius and judgment of the teacher, who must herself be 
interested in language, and able to trace it, as it has grad- 
ually come into being to express man's ideas ; and who 
must also have a nice knowledge of its rules and refinements. 

Every one knows that by speech we express our ideas ; 
but this vague general knowledge is not sufficient ; the child 
must follow the weaving of each thread, learn the force 
which each word gives to other words, beside fixing in his 
memory the arbitrary names and modes of expressing rela- 
tions. If the child is suddenly introduced to this mass of 
rules and terms, and required to fix them in his mind, he is 
disheartened : yet it is desirable to begin grammar early, 
because it facilitates the acquiring of languages, and the 
understanding of all studies. In studying foreign lan- 
guages he often gets a better abstract comprehension of 
grammar than in any other way. It is pleasant to know 
that man, tears, globe, were nouns among those old Romans, 
though called by other names. It is pleasant also to know 
that they needed nouns, verbs, and adjectives, to express 
themselves, just as we do ; to learn the lasting nature and 
superiority of the thing expressed, and to consider the 
name as an arbitrary contrivance, convenient to designate it. 
I very early lead children to observe nouns and verbs, 
and at the age of six years, I give them definite instruction 
as to their meaning and use. 

Grammar is chiefly valuable as analysis ; but this is too 
laborious to exercise young minds long, so I allow their 
fancy to construct language at the same time : in this man- 
ner giving them rest and amusement. 

I represent a man in the infancy of the world. He is 
surrounded by sensible objects, and appropriates a sound 
or name to each ; he gives names also to the emotions they 
excite in himself ; and he names persons. Thus he forms 
three kinds of nouns, of which I first give instances, and 



106 

then each girl writes an example on the black-board, and 
tells whether it is abstract, common, or proper, and why. 
Then in some book, they point out the nouns ; and say 
whether each expresses an emotion, idea, thing, or person. 
At first they call other words abstract nouns ; say they 
have an idea of black, an idea of forward, but at last they 
learn to admit no words, but such as not merely suggest a 
fact, but themselves express the fact. They continue this 
until they can point out all the nouns in a page without 
fatigue ; then I introduce number ; ask how the savage 
could express to another whether he had seen one lion or 
more, and show how much shorter it is to say lions, than 
to repeat the word for each ; then they point out the num- 
ber of each noun in the printed book. 

Next I take pronouns, words standing for nouns. I show 
how inconvenient it would be, to speak the name at full 
length, every time we mention the person ; to say, "Elisa- 
beth, lay aside Elisabeth's writing, and take up Elisabeth's 
book :" and it would have been still worse in ancient times, 
when the names were often very long. Think of a dia- 
logue between a Sardanapalus and a Melchisedec, in 
which these names take the place of you and me ! Children 
perceive at once the tediousness and uselessness of names 
when both parties are present. I explain grammatical per- 
son, and have each pronoun learned and declined, when- 
ever it occurs. They tell to what the relative and per- 
sonal pronouns refer ; if adjective pronouns are mentioned, 
I say they only point out their nouns, they do not stand for 
them. 

The savage observes also that, the things around him, 
act ; the tree grows, the water flows, he himself moves ; 
these are all ads, but not the same act ; each must 
be expressed by a separate word, and these words being 
thought the most important in the sentence, are called 
the words or verbs. Then I explain the active verbs, 
and have lists of them made on the black-board, and 
sentences formed in which they are used, and the reason 
given for their being called active. The agent and object 
are named, and I now explain the cases of nouns, and state 
that the nominative and object may be distinguished by 



107 

their position and the probable meaning of the sentence ; 
and that we used to express possession by such an expres- 
sion as, " John, his booh," afterward contracted to " John's 
booh." 

The other kinds of verbs are practiced upon and sought 
in like manner ; the passive form I show to be sometimes 
more convenient than the active : as when the object is one 
and the agents many. For instance, " the bird is tired" 
tells us all we wish to know. We might say s flying, seeking 
food, hopping from branch to branch, fyc. have tired the 
bird. Then I show that our imaginary savage found in 
objects, certain diversities ; this tree was green, that bare, 
and he added adjectives to their names to express the 
states and qualities of the things. 1 let one child tell me 
the adjectives of color, another those of quantity, praise, 
&sc. ; and afterwards point them out in the book, with the 
nouns they describe. Then I say, here are two birds with 
sweet notes, but one sings better than the other : how shall 
we mark the difference in their voices ? We can do it by 
adding two letters to the adjective which describes them. 
But I will inflict on you, my dear Mary, no more similar 
processes: you may not have my fondness for details. We 
examine every part of speech ; first show the need of ex- 
pressing a certain class of ideas, then the words invented 
for the purpose, and then point out these words in a book. 

We use each part o( speech in forming and analyzing 
sentences, while its meaning is fresh in the thoughts. J am 
a great economist in this respect. I never let my pupils 
learn words or rules to lay by, but bring them into use at 
once. I cannot bear to have a child learn, and forget, and 
learn again ; and use is the only mode of engraving know- 
ledge. After the first simple language, which answered 
the most immediate purposes, slighter feelings and dis- 
tinctions were designated ; a great variety of modes of 
expression were created. Not only new parts of speech, 
but new ways of changing and combining the old were 
formed, and relations were expressed by varying the position 
of words in a sentence. I think children taught as I have 
described, would find no difficulty in understanding this. 
They would find blank verse as easy as simple prose, be- 



108 

cause they would be guided by the meaning. I have known 
children perplexed when they began Latin, by the new 
order of the words ; and quite surprised to learn that several 
different modes of arranging them were equally good, and 
that often only custom made one so much more agreeable 
to us than another : that bread me give, and me give bread 
are as natural arrangements as ours, and as expressive of 
the idea. I remark that people were always improving on 
their inventions, and not satisfied with having language 
merely useful, wished to make it a delicate instrument, 
suited to all strains, and agreeable to the ear, so they 
introduced refinements, and made it rich in idioms and 
synonymes. Each new circumstance or emotion was ut- 
tered in a new form, and the rules by which these forms 
are constructed are grammar — a study in some of its de- 
tails unattractive, but which must be understood by all 
who would enter into the thoughts of others, or express 
their own with precision. As we do not think without 
these symbols, the accuracy of thought depends greatly 
on the nicety with which these symbols represent it. I 
often please myself with considering how much richer in 
meaning the same word is to one man than to another. 
Genius gives life, from its own intense life, to any word ; 
and feeling and association give to insignificant ones a 
power which reaches the soul. But these are beyond our 
control. All we can do to make the symbols faithful and 
significant, is to render the meaning as luminous as possi- 
ble, the first time the symbol is presented. All we can 
do to enrich each symbol with association and suggestion 
is to give to the mind every variety of knowledge, and 
as much as it can bear. How much deeper meaning 
does a man find in his own language, who recognizes the 
blended streams of his Norman and Saxon ancestors ! 
Their spirit lingers in every word, breathing of the mighty 
past. 

Children generally rebel against grammar, because it 
seems to them useless. But when taught thus, they feel 
its use, and if there is a due proportion of analysis and 
construction, they find it interesting. Sometimes, indeed, 
we meet with a mind that finds no pleasure in analysis ; but 



109 



even such a mind may be led to analyze what it has itself 
constructed. I would not omit the exercise on this ac- 
count, neither would I devote more time to it ; but I would 
press it more earnestly during the time allowed ; for you 
know it is my plan to urge what a child is deficient in, that 
symmetry may be preserved, and more time left to be- 
stow where there is a gift, and promise of excellence. 
Most children like to pull a sentence to pieces, and tell 
exactly what it expresses, and how they know it. They 
become very discriminating by this exercise, receive anoth- 
er's meaning precisely, and learn to convey their own fullv 
and with ease. These two things are very conducive to pre- 
serving good will ; for I have too good an opinion of my 
race to suppose there would be so many disagreements, if 
there were fewer misunderstandings. The tale of the out- 
cast, who throws into each word the wo of years, falls 
without reality on the ear of the nursling of wealth. ' Sin, 
bereavement, despair, what do they mean to the child of 
happiness ? It is the tendency of high civilization to mul- 
tiply words, and at the same time to express whole trage- 
dies by one short phrase, and thus to produce a want^of 
earnestness, and a dangerous levity, just as the easy transfer 
of property by bank notes and checks, instead of gold and 
solid land, is thought to have injured morals, by leading to 
thoughtless risks, because men cannot realize that these 
notes, passed so easily from hand to hand, are the symbols 
of actual property. 

You see I employ a great deal of training in these pre- 
paratory studies. It is not because I overrate them, but 
that they may occupy as little time, on the whole, 
as possible. It is quite embarrassing that the means, (be- 
cause we must have them,) should be so early and so ur- 
gently presented. Will not these, enforced almost as du- 
ties, fix themselves in the tender mind as the most im- 
portant things in life, and hide the portals of the ever- 
lasting temple ? I have felt the same difficulty in moral 
education. In civilized society we lay so many restrictions 
on children, that it is surprising their moral sense ever 
works itself free, or that they do not grow up thinking 
that banging doors, romping about, and such misdemeanors 
10 



110 

are as heinous as moral offences. To prevent a child's 
hurting itself, or doing mischief, we lay great stress on 
particular offences, so that a little child playing with fire 
often receives a punishment which the parent renders 
severe to save it from like danger, but which may 
make a false impression on the mind, and cause the 
act to seem to the child a moral offence. I explain as 
far as possible to the child, that he is punished to prevent 
his hurting himself. For a moral offence I would give 
no punishment which did not follow it, as one of the 
consequences ; I would only induce sorrow for it. No 
external punishment can wipe out a moral offence, or 
change the source whence it arose. With the idea of 
being fully punished, comes the idea of having expiated it ; 
of having incurred a debt, suffered for it, and settled all 
without an inward change ; and a moral offence is treated 
as an equivalent to physical or intellectual privation. I 
would let the child take the separation from friends, or other 
evils, as one consequence ; but I would urge the more sad 
consequences; that he had broken the law of God, hurt 
his own soul, made it more difficult to do right, or even 
to know the right, and given pain to his parents. I 
would cause him a spiritual suffering, more keen and last- 
ing than any other consequence, and I would often refer to 
it, and keep the remembrance alive. It is to me very 
doubtful how far men have a right to step in and adjudge 
a strict external punishment for a moral offence, except in 
self-defence. For we may suppose that He who knoweth 
the heart and its bitterness, chooseth hidden and loving 
ways to bring about the return of the sinner. 



Ill 



XXI. 

My Dear Mary : 

I spoke in my last of the importance of keeping the 
great ideas present, while we secure skill and knowledge of 
details. I will now mention another division, which may 
be made among the studies. In some, as spelling, reading, 
arithmetic, I cannot give much assistance ; the children 
must make each fact their own, and themselves perform 
each operation. In grammar and geography I can help 
them more. In sciences, in natural history, and in history, 
I state the facts, explain, classify them, and show the law, 
and they reach these only through me. Thus the first 
question to be decided in each study is, how far I had best 
give aid ? Languages belong to both of these divisions, 
for I can aid them very much, and still a geat deal must be 
done by themselves. Languages enlarge and enrich the 
mind, exercise the powers of analysis and combination, 
compel accuracy, and strengthen the memory. It has been 
said, that a man is so often a man, as he knows different 
languages ; and the number spoken by many persons 
abroad, proves the ease with which they are acquired. 
No doubt some persons acquire them more readily than 
others, and one who is slow of eye or ear would be unwise 
to attempt more than one or two. But a great deal may 
be accomplished if they are taught while the organs are 
flexible, the perceptions keen, and the mind unembarrassed. 
They should also be learned thoroughly, methodically, and 
usually one at a time ; and the knowledge should be used 
as it is acquired. I prefer teaching both Latin and German 
before French, not only because they are the keys of our 
language, but for their innate worth ; Latin for its simplicity, 
regularity and conciseness ; German for its expressiveness 
and overflowing wealth. The German tongue always seems 
to me like the Christmas present a good notable German 
mother prepares for her absent son. She makes it up of 
substantial gifts, comfortable wrappers, the product of her 



112 

industry; huge tomes, criticisms, squibs, caricatures, to let 
him know all that is going on in the good town ; the sister's 
embroidered smoking-cap, the brother's last theme, the lit- 
tle boy's puppets, made all by himself; and Cousin Wil- 
helmina's sketch of the family, not omitting the absent one. 
These and many more the mother stows into the groan- 
ing box, defending each by some argument satisfactory to 
herself, and protesting all the time that Gottfried will think 
himself quite forgotten. As the good woman would make 
the heaped-up box the vehicle of her yearning affection, 
the German author would make his writing the precise ex- 
pression of his entire thought. If the words are not suffi- 
cient, he prefixes the expressive particles ; developes one 
shade of meaning after another, heaps word on word, su- 
perlative on superlative, qualifying, explaining, holding 
back one part, until the other has had its effect, and the 
whole idea obtains satisfactory utterance. At first, Ger- 
man appears loaded and confused, from the very simplicity 
of its formation. When a new expression was wanted, it 
was formed in the most natural manner from old ones ; and 
we see its grammar at once, in these successive changes, 
just as we trace the progress of an art in the huge 
wooden machine, whose wheels added to wheels are so 
many memoranda of obstacles overcome. In the patent 
iron machine all trace of the process is obliterated, and we 
too often use it without knowing how many powers are at 
work. In the machine, however, the convenient result 
answers our whole purpose ; but language loses force, 
when, from any cause, it ceases to convey the original 
meaning. This is often lost from over use, as when the 
happy expression of a great man, bandied about in news- 
papers, becomes unmeaning and tiresome. Thoughts too 
sententiously delivered, too much filed away, lose weight; 
and words have to me more significance, when, like the Ger- 
man words, they proclaim their origin, and tell their own 
tale. The French words are just the reverse of these. 
They have been polished until they have lost their original 
meaning ; and it takes a life-time to learn all the proprie- 
ties arbitrarily connected with them. The idioms, instead 
of arising from a national mode of treating subjects, are often 



113 

bon-motSy and court phrases, passed into the current coin of 
the realm. But there is one reason for beginning French 
first. Its sounds are more unlike ours, and children 
lose the flexibility of their organs quite early ; and as long 
as it is the most universal, and the polite language, it will 
be that most frequently learned. As I have my young- 
est pupils in the house with me, I begin in what is certainly 
the best mode, the mode in which they learned their own 
language. At table, at play, while walking, I mention 
French names and phrases, and tell them " that is what 
French children say." They can as easily remember a 
French and an English name for a thing, as two English 
ones, and hearing them without the spelling, they are not 
perplexed. A child should be six years old to begin to 
learn French in school. Some persons may think, perhaps, 
that I teach French too thoroughly ; that it merits only to 
be read and pronounced well, and that I take the time 
from more important things ; but half of those who learn it 
will never learn any other language ; and I think it very 
desirable that every one should undergo the discipline of 
studying one language thoroughly, beside his own ; and 
knowledge gained thus, remains through life, or at least, 
can be easily recalled. 

I teach the alphabet, and the b, «, ba-s with the 
French pronunciation, practicing each sound until they can 
utter it with ease. Then in a little book, called c Lectures 
Graduees,' I spell each word with them, dividing it, pro- 
nouncing it, and naming the accent in the spelling, precise- 
ly as French children are taught. As soon as they can 
spell, they learn a few words every day, and recite first the 
French, and then the English, still spelling every day, to 
keep in mind the sounds of the letters. In a month or 
more, I give some printed rules for pronouncing French. 
Though these are not of universal application, they are 
guides in nine cases out often, and if used with a teacher, 
will not mislead. Children are discouraged by the total 
newness of French sounds, and are afraid to open their 
lips. 

A new study is like a tiresome or wintry journey, 
where the best defence is a brave and cheerful spirit ; 
10* 



114 

therefore I am very careful to remove all obstacles of a 
depressing nature, and all fear. I often give a slight 
sketch of the new study, touch on its difficulties as needing 
only good heart, and show what particular efforts will be 
required to overcome them. Then I remind them that they 
have left many difficulties behind, and have enjoyed rich 
rewards for their labors. I tell them, that I suppose they 
think it a great undertaking to learn another language, but 
it is a very simple thing ; at first, they have only to learn 
a new name for old things ; they would not find it difficult 
to call a bowl, a basin, if their mother desired it. I ac- 
knowledge there are greater difficulties in learning French 
because the sounds are unlike ours, and the same characters 
represent sounds different from ours. But neither of 
these are insuperable ; there are many sounds in the human 
voice, beside those we use in our language ; some nations 
use nasal sounds chiefly, others gutturals ; those who 
live in a cold climate keep their mouths shut, and 
utter nothing but consonants ; those who live in a warm 
climate use open sounds, or vowels. I set the children to 
inventing new sounds, and when the prejudice in favor of 
their own language is quite overcome, I teach the French 
sounds. Then I tell them that we received our charac- 
ters from the Romans ; that we can still read their manu- 
scripts, though we do not know precisely how they sounded 
the letters; that when the Roman empire fell asunder, 
some of the provinces retained the written characters ; 
that, had there been steamboats and railroads, so that all 
the people could travel, and hear each other speak, the Latin 
language might have been spoken by the Italians, Spaniards, 
French, English, and perhaps Germans, to this day. But 
these nations were for many ages separated from each 
other, and each formed its own mode of pronouncing the 
letters, or adapted them to sounds they used before they 
had a written language. At present we are to learn only 
the sounds which the French attach to these characters ; 
but we must know these as thoroughly as the English 
sounds before we can proceed. Then I remind them, 
that in English each vowel has several sounds, and give 
instances ; and say that by patience they have learned all 



115 

these, and the French sounds are not so numerous, and are 
more regular. They take their printed books, and I 
give out the long and broad sound of a, and mention 
when-it takes place. We repeat the examples very often, 
taking pains to get the exact sound. The next day each 
scholar recites the cases in which a is broad, and gives 
a few examples ; then I point to the as in a page of 
1 Lectures Graduees,' and ask of each, if it is long, and the 
reason. Sometimes the children are ready for a new rule 
after one recitation. When there is a great variety of 
cases, they require more practice to point them out easily. 
Then I give the sound of a short and open, and mention the 
positions in which it occurs ; this is learned and recited in 
the same manner ; and the next day they can tell all the 
simple as. Several sentences are spelled, and phrases 
recited each day. This gives variety ; and, though it 
would be irksome to older girls, the obstacles are just 
the size for little folks. I go over every simple and every 
compound sound in the same manner; they learn first the 
sound, then in what positions of the character it takes 
place: they then select these positions in the book, and 
recite the rule. This requires short daily lessons for a 
year; but it is learned for life. Then the child takes up 
her French book, and if she hesitates, I say, " e, with the 
grave accent; what sound has that?" and if her rule is 
not ready, she must learn it again. With these rules to 
guide her, she is willing to pronounce by herself. Of 
course, we have met with some exceptions, which I have 
mentioned, and they have marked these in their books, or 
made lists of them ; and they know the meaning of some 
hundreds of words thoroughly. At this stage, if they are 
ten years old, I give an easy book, and let them look for 
the words. If younger, I give them an interlined book; 
because the object is to teach as many French words as 
possible, and they would learn very few, if they had 
them all to seek in the dictionary. The fable is read 
in the part of the book that is not interlined ; then pro- 
nounced and partly spelled ; and then I ask almost every 
French word, and some of the English words. In a few 
months they can do this with ease, and then I proceed to 



116 

the study of the French verbs. I know of no way to make 
these interesting ; but they may be learned with tolerable 
ease when the pronunciation is known, and only the 
changes of the moods and tenses are new. I keep the 
children in the interlined book, until the regular and irreg- 
ular verbs are perfectly learned, and something is known 
of the articles, adjectives, and pronouns. Then the child 
is prepared to take an easy book, and work her w 7 ay on to 
the hardest. All a teacher has to do henceforward, is to 
explain difficult passages, point out conventionalisms, id- 
ioms, and exceptions in pronunciation. The lessons should 
at first be short. The child should be required to select the 
verbs and nouns, as in English grammar, and point out 
their relations to other words ; she should give the synop- 
sis of the verbs, in whatever number and person that is 
she is parsing ; form it from its primitive tenses, tell how 
it is used, &c. I always let her practice every thing 
frequently at first, that she may not lose the links, and 
afterward more rarely. When parsing is discontinued, 
writing exercises takes its place. This should be practiced 
until they are written correctly, as to grammar and con- 
struction. Those who would write or speak French ele- 
gantly, must learn of a native ; therefore I have not men- 
tioned writing it thus or speaking it. Perhaps you will 
think all these minutiae needless ; that I make it too labo- 
rious ; but the minutiae are suited to the grasp, and the 
time is spent now, to be saved when more valuable. A 
child taught thus, will find no difficulties after tw r o or three 
years study, and we know how many children study that 
length of time in a less methodical manner, without learning 
either to pronounce or to translate. 



117 



XXII. 

My Dear Mary : 

As I have described my mode of teaching French so 
fully, I will not say much about Latin. I am disposed to 
have every girl of tolerable industry and capacity learn it. 
Its grammar thoroughly learned gives insight into most oth- 
ers. It also gives a more definite meaning to our language, 
and the clue to French, Spanish, and particularly to Italian. 
I begin it when French has been studied two years, and 
its first difficulties are overcome. I use the Vocabulary 
and Phaedrus, that the children may become interested in 
the language before they begin the grammar. In all the 
lessons I am very particular to have not merely the quan- 
tity but the accent preserved. I do not allow the nouns 
or the verbs to be declined in that hasty, slovenly manner, 
which is too common. I trace the English and French 
words formed from the Latin ones, and show their changes. 
By doing this every time a word appears, it is fixed in their 
memory and made interesting. Children perceive and 
remember such things wonderfully, if they are once pointed 
out. I insist on perfect accuracy in the recitations, and 
reward it by interesting details about the Roman history 
and customs. Words are rather dry, and if I am satisfied 
with the recitation I allow the lesson to suggest what it 
will ; and a good deal of information is brought out in the 
course of studying Latin, which otherwise might be passed 
over. Even the Vocabulary, by giving the names of com- 
mon things, introduces an account of the habits of the 
Romans. Thus stylus, a pen, if the lesson has been well 
recited, gives occasion to describe their mode of writing ; 
but if the lesson be not satisfactory, a glimpse of the un- 
known is afforded and withdrawn with a regret. Some- 
times I brighten a tiresome lesson by the beautiful and 
expressive creations of mythology. The Grecian concep- 
tions should not be known, only through the Roman ap- 



118 

prehension of them ; but the constant allusion to them hi 
Latin books gives them an air of reality, and serves 
for an introduction. Did you ever observe how much 
interest children take in any thing suggested by the text; 
and how difficult it is to interest them at once in that 
about which they know nothing. I have often been dis- 
appointed, on bringing into school an account of some fact 
or discovery which interested me, to find the scholars quite 
insensible to it. They would listen eagerly at first, but I 
soon saw it was not appreciated ; they had never met the 
difficulty, and could not rejoice in its solution. I have 
met with similar disappointments in their reception of 
books. If it is a scientific book, or one whose worth 
has been tested by ages, I know that it is their want of 
preparation, and it loses no value in my eyes : but if it is 
more a matter of taste, I feel quite a painful anxiety that 
it should please. We, who know the worth of all know- 
ledge, are scarcely aware how exclusively children value 
that of which they have felt the want. I recollect in Mrs. 
Barbauld's early lessons, she gives a pleasing account of 
the attraction of straws by amber. I never knew a young 
child interested in it, because no young child could ever 
see why amber should not draw straws. 

Mythology is one of the subjects I wished to introduce as 
a lesson, and which they did not appreciate. Since then, 
I have kept it to brighten the duller paths. I cannot bear 
that the conceptions of the Greeks, so noble, so sugges- 
tive, so full of meaning even in the details, so teeming with 
life and beauty, should be wanting to their education ; yet, 
if w^e offer a small book to be studied, they have merely the 
bare description of an imaginary being ; the grace, the 
fragrance, the reality is gone. If we give a larger book, 
the child is perplexed by the multitude of new words and 
strange persons, and wants to know all about each, ending 
all inquiries by the unanswerable one, Is it true ? and, 
why should we learn it, if it is not ? It is revolting 
to most children's sense of truth and of the value of time to 
have any thing given them to study, which is not true. 
They like to read fairy and fictitious tales, but they demand 
something, upon which they can rest with perfect faith for 



119 

their graver hours. Beside, there is no age, in very early 
life, at which mythology, as a whole, can be introduced. 
Conceived by minds like ours in nature, but very differently 
situated, it presents the grandest eternal truths, blended 
with trivial or indefensible circumstances. In some in- 
stances, the garb is puerile or extravagant, and if we offer 
the whole to the child, it seizes the absurd incidents, or 
those offensive to its moral sense, and cannot enter into the 
deeper meaning. If we offer it to older girls, they see the 
inward meaning, but reject the embodying. It is only when 
we are still older, that we become more tolerant, and wel- 
come worth in whatever strange apparel the age has 
dressed it. By teaching it orally, I can adapt my interpreta- 
tions to different ages. I often repeat the same story, or 
ask for it when alluded to in different books. Thus some- 
thing of the Grecian spirit is imbibed. 



XXIII. 

My Dear Mary : 

Already I anticipate your objections to the details in 
my last. You are in pain for my poor scholars ; you think 
I demand too much acquirement from them ; that I keep 
them too much in the concrete, the region of petty things. 
All the time I was writing of arithmetic, grammar, and 
the languages, there was in my ear a distant murmur of 
disapprobation, and as I am very fond of answering objec- 
tions before they can be stated, I intend you shall receive 
this to-morrow, and look very silly over your penned re- 
monstrance. I acknowledge, that thus far the concrete 
predominates, as it must, considered as to time given in 
early youth ; but I should be as unwilling as you to let this 
predominance continue ; it should diminish gradually, as the 
mind gradually rises to the perception of abstract truth. 



120 

Nor are these their only present influences ; I have ac- 
counted to you only for the early part of the forenoon. If 
there are no lessons to be recited a second time, we have 
nearly an hour's conversation after intermission. All the 
day's lessons are recited before intermission, and those for 
the next day, are learned after the conversation. And let 
me remind you, that this hour comes daily, for ten years, 
giving time, you will suppose, for more than I could fur- 
nish from my unassisted head. It is during this time that 
the elements of the sciences have been communicated to 
the little ones. When they are older, I use a text-book, 
that we may proceed regularly and omit nothing. I look 
over the lesson previously, consult other books, think how 
to present it and illustrate it, and determine how much 
they can comprehend. The text-book often remains with 
the mark at the same place for some time, but at last the 
mark moves on. In this manner I first took Grund's Phy- 
sics, and each paragraph furnished several conversations, 
and the illustrations which the children offered, proved how 
fully they understood some phenomena which to us appear 
difficult. I remember one girl perceived instantly how 
water would find its level on a globe. After some months 
given to physics, I take some very different subject — per- 
haps the natural history of a particular class of animals, or 
the physiology of plants, according to the season. I rep- 
resent the principle of life entering into matter, moulding 
it, expanding it, and giving birth to new and beautiful exis- 
tences. I describe the simplest animals and the simplest 
vegetables, so similar that we can scarcely distinguish them ; 
then, as they become more perfect, forming two ascending 
series, continually more separate and unlike each other as 
they rise. Thus the samphire and the prickly pear seem 
only a succession of expansions of loose pulpy matter enclosed 
in a skin, and each part may be separated and grow into a 
whole plant. The aquatic worms are a similar prolonga- 
tion of loose sacks which become ribbed across in certain 
places ; at each division appear two blank points, the be- 
ginnings of eyes ; the separations become more marked and 
the body divides into several bodies which are perfect nereis. 
Some polypi increase by putting forth new tubercles, like 



121 

a bulbous root or crocus. Then we compare the finely 
organized animals and plants, and find them unlike in 
many particulars, and not to be mistaken for each other. 
The lion has a heart, lungs, brain, red blood, terrible eyes, 
strong limbs, a flowing mane, a separate organ for each 
function, and many functions peculiar to animal life. 
The oak has become a community of distinct individuals 
bound up in one, having a common life and an individual 
life renewed each spring. By its yearly growth, it has ac- 
cumulated a great trunk, spreading branches, rugged bark, 
and it has many organs unknown to the cactus, each with 
its separate function peculiar to vegetable life. Then we 
notice that animals have an internal organic life, like that 
of plants ; have circulation and respiration, and also an 
outward life, of the senses, which makes them perceive, 
desire, and seek foreign things. Accordingly the plant 
lives and dies where it first took root, having very little 
connexion with external things, and no power of locomo- 
tion. But the animal approaches and shuns things at plea- 
sure, having the power of moving about. 

Then from a good author we read and talk about some 
one class of birds or animals ; we observe how they are 
distinguished from others ; remark their structure, habits, 
haunts. After a few months given to these, and many re- 
petitions of their anatomy and physiology whenever minor 
varieties are introduced, I say to them that they must keep 
these in their memory, and by and by we shall take up 
another class. 

Then I pass to chemistry : I give instances of motion 
and change in the inorganic world, for which physical 
laws do not account. Vapor rises and forms clouds, 
no mechanical force impels it ; it falls and becomes solid 
ice ; it expands and bears along the load of a hundred 
horses. What makes it solid and expands it? What 
moves the lightning and the northern lights ? The princi- 
ple of life does not directly change water and air to leaves 
and juicy fruits, nor directly color the blossom and the 
wood. As far as we can penetrate, these effects are brought 
about by certain chemical affinities in the particles, which 
make them unite and form new substances. In the animal 
11 



122 

the principle of life does not convert simple nourishment 
immediately to bones, sinews, flesh, and fine organs ; but 
these are formed by what we call affinities in matter itself. 
These laws, which supersede mechanical laws, and which 
serve the principle of life, we call chemical. They, and the 
subjects connected with them, form interesting topics, be- 
cause they are so frequently suggested by the common 
occurrences of life. 

In the spring, I take up vegetable physiology. I begin 
with the seed ; describe its swelling ; the chemical changes 
which take place to nourish the germ ; its radicle fixedly 
seeking the earth ; its plumula as obstinately turned toward 
the light ; the activity of each organ from the moment it 
is developed ; the root instinctively imbibing nourishment 
and passing it up to t)ie tiny leaves ; the leaves or aerial 
roots breathing in nourishment from the air and sending 
down solid particles to form the wood ; and the stem serving 
as a living soil to produce new shoots. Then I describe our 
trees with their wide dome-like tops and irregular branches, 
bearing small fruits and leaves, and the tropical trees shoot- 
ing upward a confused mass of wood and bark, often very 
slender, without branches, and of enormous height, and 
frequently bearing on their summit only a single fruit. 
The immense size and deep green of their leaves ; their 
peculiar habits and productions ; their rapid vegetation ; 
their trunks abounding with milky juices and aromatic odors ; 
their fruits so luxuriant and delicious, and of a size unknown 
here ; all form interesting lessons. Then I tell them that 
throughout our trees are dormant buds which may be called 
into action by light and by abundance of heat and nourish- 
ment ; that some of these become leaves and branches : 
others, flowers and fruits. When a sufficient number of 
leaves has been developed to supply air and nourishment 
to the plant, shorter shoots are sent out, but, being sup- 
plied with the same abundance of sap, they swell at the 
extremities and form richer organs. Instead of the simple 
green leaves, disposed sparingly along the stem, many of 
the germs which would have formed them are brought 
together in a whorl ; the first whorl is exposed to the air ; it 
has usually no beauty, and often keeps the form of leaves ; 



123 

from its shelter bursts another whorl, colored by a chem- 
ical process, broad, soft and brilliant, forming the corolla 
of the flower. The corolla folds over an inner whorl until 
this requires the sun, then turns back and falls ; the inner 
whorl drops its farina on the pistil and the seed is prepared. 
With how many wonders and beauties has it been ushered 
in ; not striking from their magnitude, but exquisite in their 
adaptation ! From the first sprouting of the seed to the 
ripening of the fruit, how subordinate is each part to the 
whole ! what a lesson to the mortal who complains of his 
lot as an obscure or fruitless part of the great whole ! 
What would become of a plant had each part free-will 
and selfish desires ? Would it adapt itself to circumstances 
of climate and situation, and thus prepare more delicate 
and lovely developements ? In India, the horse-chestnut 
exposes its leaves and blossoms bare to the air. Here it 
wraps them in countless covers, and each scale is a leaf 
sacrificed to our colder climate. It would be melancholy 
to pull asunder the leaf-bud of a walnut and count its 
golden scales, had not Nature, in denying them life as 
Leaves, given them a new form of beauty, folding them 
round the tender bud in a long slender cone. To these 
degenerate leaves, we owe the cup of the acorn, the cone 
of the fir, and other of our most graceful forms. Then 
I show how Nature, by directing the energy to any one 
part or organ, developes peculiar properties, and makes 
it agreeable or useful to man. In warm countries, out of 
a bare rock rises the tree so famed by travellers for its 
vegetable milk. Its leaves are dry and leathery ; the 
juice tends to the trunk, is elaborated there, and yields an 
abundant and refreshing draught in a country where months 
pass without rain. The butter-tree, the sugar-maple, the 
numerous gum and India-rubber trees, show us what abun- 
dance may be prepared by a single organ. 

Then I show the formation of fruit ; perhaps the most 
astonishing instance of the variety Nature produces. By 
the simplest means she makes a delicious fruit, now of the 
calyx, now of the seed-vessel, now of the seed itself, or 
even of its receptacle ; and changes the envelope into the 
most fragrant spice ; or into cotton, abundant minister to 



124 

the wants of man. But I will dwell no longer on this or 
other sciences ; you are now familiar with my mode of 
teaching. 



XXIV. 

My Dear Mary : 

There is one subject which I have not touched upon j 
yet its culture belongs to every age. Nothing can 
exceed the distress caused to most children over six 
years, by a demand for composition ; but these children 
would have been willing, at three, to describe every walk, 
object, or amusement they had enjoyed. At that age, need 
of sympathy and their great life lead them to reproduce ; and 
the novelty of objects and the nice perceptions of children 
make them describe vividly and graphically. But we are 
apt to be too selfish and too much cumbered with other 
things. We check the flow of talk as it is gushing forth, 
and then, when we have leisure and inclination, we call 
the child to us, and wonder that it has nothing to say. If 
we are sitting alone in a room with nothing to engage a 
child, w T e may, with all our resources, find it difficult to fix 
its attention ; but if we take it the length of the street, we 
shall be overwhelmed with questions. It has not in itself 
sufficient subjects for thought, and we must present these, 
if we would have the child talk or write. 

How rare are conversational powers in this country ! 
Perhaps the reserve and constraint of manner which we 
inherit from our pilgrim fathers is one cause. All may 
have these powers ; the universe lies open to all ; all have 
thoughts and feelings which may be uttered without viola- 
ting dignity and delicacy of character. But we lose the 
habit and power of expressing ourselves freely before we 



125 

begin to value it. Among grown persons we are con- 
tented if each speaks well on any one subject ; and there 
is a tacit sliding into that. Now I do not object to a per- 
son's being particularly interested in one subject, and there- 
fore excelling in it, but I do object to his being limited to 
this. And I also object to the conversation of any coterie 
or clique whatever, as being liable to take always one 
character. 

Society should answer and sympathize with all our wants. 
When only one power is gratified, it is soon wearied, and 
longs for rest. We feel this with highly-cultivated people, 
if they are not our near friends also ; and we turn to the 
hearty cordial human natures for refreshment. But the 
discourse of these does not satisfy us long, unless they will 
accompany us into the regions of higher thought. Again, 
conversation too abstract fatigues us, and we are glad to 
hear about things and persons ; we listen eagerly to traits 
of character, scattered like gold-dust through life, until 
we are tired of collecting particles, and return to the silent 
mine of thought. 

He who is alive to all, and can express all, unites all 
excellences of conversation. He is all things to all men, 
because he contains all, and his society is a fairy land, 
where each finds what he seeks. 

Nearly the same training will secure the power of con- 
versing and of writing well ; and both are far more in our 
power than we suppose. I speak now chiefly of the latter, 
which beside the requisites for conversation requires the 
pow r er of concentrating thought. 

Savages, and children under little restraint, generally pos- 
sess eloquence and ease of expression : and children should 
be encouraged to speak naturally and freely of all they see, 
think, and feel. Thus their conversation will be what it 
should be, the perfect reflection of all objects, colored by 
the individual soul ; or rather the soul's myrrh and incense, 
its fruit and flowers, elaborated from the crude materials it 
has imbibed. 

They should utter every emotion ; they should make 
inquiries to the purpose, state their difficulties clearly, and 
strive always to express precisely what they mean. We 



126 

are too indulgent to them in this respect. We are afraid 
to check their confidence, and are so glad to have them use 
their powers, that we are satisfied with very imperfect 
execution. I do not quite agree with Dr. Johnson that 
if a boy saw a thing out of one window, and said he saw it 
out of another, he should be whipped ; but I do think the 
habit of describing accurately would be cheaply purchased 
by many whippings. 

I read anecdotes from biography and mythology, apo- 
logues, fables, traits of heroism and generosity, and accustom 
the children to draw from each a moral. The next clay 
they are repeated by the little girls, and written by the older 
ones. 

Meanwhile, the little girls are acquiring ease in hand- 
writing, by making new sentences from their French and 
Latin words ; by writing down verbs through all their 
moods ; and by the other exercises I have mentioned. 

When they can write without undue anxiety concerning 
spelling, punctuation, blots, and all minor troubles, they 
write descriptions of simple objects, such as bellows, spec- 
tacles, carriages ; mention their materials, and construction, 
and uses. They describe buildings and gardens, or rides 
they have taken. They write imaginary journeys, de- 
scribing the people, customs, and scenery. Of course they 
consult books for these descriptions, but do not copy them. 
They write recollections of what they have read or heard 
during the week, translations, and turn blank verse into 
prose. 

Some new thought is thus elicited ; but I never require 
any thing original until the age of fourteen. At this age, 
the mind can generally fix itself on a subject, consider some 
of its bearings, and treat it clearly. At first, I give some 
hints, if they are very much desired by the children ; but as 
soon as possible, I withdraw all leadings : for I wish not to 
impress myself, but to bring out their individuality. I let 
them choose their own subjects, if they are suggestive, and 
not exclusively of one cast. 

I have now brought them to the age of fourteen ; let me 
tell you of what they will then be capable. 

Their geography, grammar, and all elementary studies, 



127 

may now be laid aside. They are good arithmeticians, 
and know something of algebra and geometry. They can 
read French, easy German books, and Virgil, so as to en- 
joy it. I should not give Virgil at an earlier age. In all 
languages I give many easy books, and proceed gradually 
to those more difficult. Some teachers make a point of 
having each book more difficult than that which pre- 
ceded ; and if the time be short and limited, and the 
pupil is to be fitted for particular books, this must be 
done. Parents often think variety in books needless ; the 
time given to languages is short, and the pupil wishes to 
read the most celebrated and difficult authors. But this 
is not the way we teach English. We do not use Mrs. 
Trimmer and Goldsmith and Rasselas in quick succession. 
We give many authors, varying in style, and alike easy, 
before presenting an obscure or concise one. 

All difficult study of languages is now over. Italian may 
be added whenever convenient ; generally not till the 
pupil has finished reading Latin, because three languages 
at a time are quite enough. I should have long lessons 
learned, more than could be recited, so that some know- 
ledge of the literature should be obtained as well as of the 
language. 

Algebra and geometry should now be studied faithfully : 
and the sciences taken up one at a time, and studied from 
the best authors, and many books relating to each read. 
A few months given to each science, would make the uni- 
verse richer and more significant during the whole life. 

In history, I would have long lessons and finished recita- 
tions, and occasionally written abstracts of particular occur- 
rences or characters. History and biography are however 
rather for the closet than the school ; it requires extensive 
reading to seize the connexion of events, and remember 
persons and events. One must know a great deal of history 
to enjoy it fully or to remember it well. 

And now, my dear Mary, I have given you my ideas as 
fully as I can. You know I brought to the task the thoughts 
of a life, but the practical experience of only one year ; 
and this must excuse what is crude or omitted in what I 



128 

have written. If Experience does for me what I expect 
from her, I may some day send you something more com- 
plete than these growings ; my only wish while writing 
this has been, that some one of more powerful grasp and 
wider experience would write it for me. But it is a wise 
Providence which compels us to think for ourselves. None 
but ourselves can draw down to our individual circum- 
stances, the light of Eternal Truth. 



























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